


I'm breaking, I feel it

by young_monster



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Blood, Danny suffers from toxic masculinity, Drug Use, Drugs, Gangs, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, More tags to be added, No Smut, Rape Aftermath, Self-Harm, Stockholm Syndrome, a little bit anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-03-27 05:19:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 80,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13873986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/young_monster/pseuds/young_monster
Summary: Danny was one of the many prostitutes in the streets of Los Angeles. He didn't hate his life, so things were going pretty well. One Friday night, he was approached by an unnamed man with a stupid nickname, promptly fucking Danny's life over, in more than one way.Danny starts off pretty fucking miserable. But, with enough time, everything doesn't seem to be so bad.Title taken from "Pain" by HU*tags subject to change as the story is updated*





	1. Well, shit.

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so this is my first long work that I'm actually gonna try and finish and post on here. I'm still figuring out shit as I go, so there might be long periods of time in between updates, and there will definitely be updates to the tags and shit as I post.  
> I honestly have no clue how long this is gonna end up being. I already have 12K written, and I'm no where close to the ending. Lots of unknowns are everywhere, but I'll get there. Hopefully.  
> Enjoy this first chapter!

Daniel Murillo had known for a long time that the world was a cruel place. He had seen it all before: people with their dreams of making it big, and selling themselves out to achieve their dream.

He wasn’t immune to it, either. He had his own dream of being some hot-shot singer, preferably in a rock band. However, unlike most others, Danny knew the unrealistic features of his dream. He was talented, but not enough to make it to the top all on his own; He would’ve needed to go a performing arts college or something, and there was no way in Hell he could’ve afforded a school like that.

Danny didn’t have the grades for a scholarship, and he didn’t fancy the idea of being balls deep in student loans for the rest of his life, especially with the possibility that his dream could still never happen.

So Danny threw his dream away, and focused on something else. He decided that he might as well use his body for work, since he didn’t feel like he was saving it for someone special, or some shit like that. People that Danny had dated had told him that he was good in bed, so he used that advice and took his future by the balls.

Yes, Danny was a prostitute. No, he didn’t suffer a lack of self-respect for himself. No, he didn’t sell himself for some shit like a nickel.

Yes, Danny always had safe sex. He knew the people of Hollywood were fucking filthy, and he wanted to remain untouched by their plagues. It was one of the few boundaries he had with his clients. That, and the more rough forms of BDSM and shit like that. Danny had standards.

Other than that, though, he was open for anyone willing to pay, which unsurprisingly, was a high amount of people. Clients had told him that he was of higher quality than most of the others that wandered the street corners on Saturday nights. He took it as a compliment.

Danny didn’t mind the work; sometimes it sucked, yes, but he always managed to pay rent, with money to spare, and living in his nice apartment wasn’t exactly the cheapest. And there was always going to be a nice story to tell. Of course, assuming he had anyone to tell them too.

Once his family found out what he was doing, they more or less disowned him. His parents told him to fix his life, and all but one of his brothers told him to fuck off. Danny still didn’t talk with the one brother who hadn’t disowned him, though mainly because his brother was always busy with his career and his family. Danny didn’t want to intrude.

Life was going pretty well, until one fateful Friday night. Danny was walking the Strip, waiting for whomever wanted to approach him. That night, he was expecting a regular, but instead, a man with short, curly hair appeared. He had a nice face, with warm brown eyes and a light beard.

He was wearing a black hoodie, with black jeans pulled low and beat up sneakers. The most striking thing about him, to Danny at least, was that his nails were painted black. He always wanted to paint his nails, but the paint ended up chipping within less than two days; so Danny decided the effort wasn’t worth it.

“Hey, how you doin’, angel?” The man asked, keeping his head tilted slightly to the ground.

Danny almost scoffed at the shitty line, but he knew that most clients didn’t appreciate it. “I’m doin’ alright, mister. What can I do for you?”

“I’m thinking that you could come with me, to my place, and have a damn good time.”

“If you can pay for bringing me somewhere,” Danny said, immediately growing wary of this man. He reminded himself of the pepper spray in his back pocket, and that he knew how to defend himself. He would be fine; he has been in the past.

The man chuckled. “I can pay for anything.”

“Good to know. You got a name, mister?”

“Call me Funnyman, darling.”  
Danny forced a smile, and pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning on. “Let’s get going.”  
Funnyman smirked, and held out his arm, all proper-like. Danny withheld a sigh, and looped his arm through Funnyman’s. They began walking at a slow pace down the street, away from the city.

Danny tried his best to keep his wits about him – pay attention to every street they took, check down every alley they passed, and keep a check on any unexpected noises – but at the same time, Funnyman seemed insistent on talking his ear off.

It was all hen chatter to Danny; useless talking to the fill the silence. Most people talked less than this, which was all the better to Danny. He didn’t like talking about stupid nothings, but apparently, Funnyman loved it.

The entire way, Danny kept thinking about the stories of the prostitutes getting killed and dumped in the sewers and shit. He didn’t want to end up that way, and so far, he hadn’t ever come close. He took pride in his relatively smooth “career”, and would be severely upset if his nice streak was broken.

The two of them passed by a particularly dirty alley, where Danny saw a shadow moving in the corner of his eye. His blood turned cold, and he whipped his head to the side, trying to catch the shadow.

A sudden, blinding pain erupted in the back of Danny’s head, sending him tumbling to the ground with an undignified shriek. His head screamed in agony; he couldn’t move to get up, or to fend off the fucking prick who attacked him.

Danny was vaguely aware of more than one set of hands on him, picking him up by his torso and his feet and harshly carrying him somewhere. This couldn't be fucking happening, not to him, not tonight, not at all!

“You picked a fatass,” Someone to his left said.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole, and get his ass to the fucking van!”

Danny tried to thrash around, but it was all he could to squirm within the grips of whoever was holding him.

“Damn, I swear to Christ if you gave him a fucking concussion-”  
“It’s not my fault, I just did what I was told and I was told to use all my strength!”

“Yo, Three, fucking dose him already!”

Danny groaned as he felt a piercing pain in his thigh, like a bee sting or some shit. After a few moments, an entirely new sensation flooded his system.

Everything felt lighter. His pain seemed to dissipate, and float away into the night air. His blood seemed become hotter, almost too hot for his skin. Wait no, it _was_ too hot. It was that stuffy, humid kind of heat, making Danny become too uncomfortable within his own skin.

He felt as if he could float right through the hands of the people holding him, and sink right through the ground into the center of the Earth.

“Did you give him the good shit?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Deuce is gonna be pissed.”

“He can suck my dick, we have a job to do, and we’re fucking doing it!”

There was the sound of sliding doors opening, and Danny was unceremoniously dumped onto the ground. He groaned, and tried to roll onto his side, but his body didn’t seem to connect with his brain. He felt his hands along the ground, and was shocked to feel that it was soft. Soft like carpet?

An engine started up, making the floor vibrate softly. Definitely not outside anymore.

“Let’s fucking go already! I don’t know how long he’ll be doped up.”

“Probably pretty fuckin’ long, look at him!”

Danny tried to say something, anything, just to let whoever was around him know that he protested this, but he couldn’t do anything other than groan one more time before passing out on the soft, vibrating floor.

~~~  


“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bac-y!”

Danny was rudely woken up by a loud and rather nasally voice shouting from the other side of the room. He tried to jerk up, but something cold and clinking was blocking his hands and feet from being able to move.

Danny tried to open his eyes, but the bare light made his head pound with the force of twelve angry gods. His entire body was sore, for reasons he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember a lot from last night.

“Wake the fuck up, already.”

Who’s voice was that? It was annoying. And Danny didn’t recognize it. Shit... he didn't recognize it. 

Danny’s eyes shot open. The light burned horribly, but he forced his eyes to stay open. He was in a room he didn’t know, cuffed to a bed that wasn't his, with a man in standing in the doorway that was in the opposite corner. The man’s face was hidden by a mask; it was grey, with light blue paint under the eyes, and pink tape over the mouth.

_He was fucking kidnapped._

Danny shook his head, trying to dispel the reality he woke up in. He slammed his head down on the bed in the hopes that the impact might wake him from this nightmare. It only served to increase his pain, and make his stomach fold into itself.

“Fuck.” Danny muttered under his breath, eyeing the man in the corner with a seething hatred.

“You’re awake!” The man said in an overly cheery tone, sauntering up to the bed.

“If we’re stating the obvious, then you’re a fucking kidnapper,” Danny retorted, with venom dripping from his voice.

The masked man chuckled, and paused at the foot of the bed. “A fighter, huh? Of course Funny had to pick you.”

Danny’s fists clenched at the stupid nickname of main idiot he decided was responsible for this entire thing. “Why the fuck did he choose me? Why am I here?”

“Why the fuck do you think?” The masked man asked, gesturing wildly with his skinny little arms. He dropped his arms with a sigh, and just looked at Danny. “You looked like a smart one.”

The man went around the bed, until he was right next to Danny. He lifted one of his tattooed hands up, and placed it flat on Danny’s chest. “Think about it; we need a new toy, and you’re fresh off the shelf.”

Danny glared at the man’s hand on his chest. It was terribly difficult to not bite the man’s hand, so he settled for glaring into their eyes. “And who the fuck are you?”

The masked pulled his hand to his chest, backing away as a gesture of feigned hurt. “You don’t know me?” He actually sounded surprised. “The Producer, Big Deuce, leader of the motherfuckin’ Undead, and you _don’t_ know me?”  
Danny’s eyes widened, and he could feel his anger slowly melding into fear. He had been kidnapped by the Undead. The giant fucking gang that ruled the streets of the City of goddamn Angels. Of fucking course.

“Why me?” Danny pressed his body into the mattress as much as it could, involuntarily straining against the cuffs on his wrists and ankles.

“Why not you?” The man, Deuce’s voice had lowered to an uncomfortable pitch intended to be sensual. He began running his hand down Danny’s cheek. “You’re so pretty, ya know? And you look like a challenge.”

Danny swallowed thickly. Why the fuck did this happen to him? He was having a decent enough life, and now… everything is fucked up. He was kidnapped by the most ruthless gang in the entire city, and was definitely going to have a terrible fucking time.

There was a knock on the door, yanking him from his thoughts and back into reality. Deuce let out a groan, and stepped away from Danny. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and straightened his back up as he turned to the door.

“Come in,” Deuce called out. His voice had suddenly become stronger, and more fierce. The voice of a leader, Danny supposed.

The door was cracked open, and another man in a mask poked his head in. His mask was white, with the eyes bleeding and a dollar bill covering the mouth. His eyes merely glazed over Danny before settling on the leader.

“The rest of them are here,” The new man said.

Deuce clapped his hands once. “Oh, goody!” He turned to Danny, a sinister gleam in his eyes. “Let’s have a family meeting! Jay, could you help me move him?”

“Why can’t we just talk in here?” The white-masked man, Jay, asked as he stepped further into the room.

“Because, dumbass, I want him in the room with the metal chair that’s stuck to the floor.” Deuce said, speaking to Jay like a child. “Now, help me move him.”

Jay crossed his arms, and let out a heavy sigh. “Deuce, we talked about this.”  
“Fine.” Deuce through his hands into the air. “ _Please_ help me move our new bitch to the interrogation room.”

“Was that so hard?” Jay walked up to Danny, cracking his knuckles as he approached the captive.

Deuce groaned. “Yes. Now let’s move him.” He reached into his back pocket, then pulled out a strip of black fabric. He held it in front of Danny’s face. “Are you going to make this easy, or are you going to fight?”

“You said I was a fighter, right?” Danny seethed, glaring at the masked man. “Fucking try me.”

“Oh, I will,” Deuce promised, crouching down so he was eye level with Danny. “But right now, you’re gonna make this easy for us.”

Before Danny even knew what had happened, Deuce had lunged forward, and harshly wrapped the fabric around his eyes. He tied it too tightly around Danny’s head, not bothering to keep his bleached blonde from getting caught in the knot.

“You fucking bastards!” Danny tried jerking himself up, but this time, he felt a burning pain erupt on his left cheek. He had been slapped!

“Shut the fuck up,” Deuce commanded. “And watch the language.”

Danny clenched his jaw, but didn’t say anything back. He heard Jay scoff from somewhere near the end of the bed.

“Get his ankles, I’ll get his wrists,” Deuce said, now sounding right behind Danny.

Danny felt the cuffs being unlatched from the bed, but before he could make any kind of escape, they were latched together, binding his ankles to each other and his wrists to each other.

He felt a pair of arms wrap around his legs, and another, distinctly skinnier pair hook themselves under his armpits.

“One, two, three!”

Danny was lifted off the bed, uncomfortably hanging in the grasps of these two masked men. He writhed in their grasps, trying to get them to drop him so he could bolt.

“Stop that,” Jay ordered. “Or you ain’t gonna like what happens!”  
Danny went limp, resolving to be as resistant as possible without actually getting punished. The two masked men sighed, and began walking. They definitely weren’t being gentle, as they jostled Danny’s sore body around as if he were a rag-doll.

They walked for a short while in a silence, with the only sound being an occasional grunt from the masked men. Danny tried to listen for any type of distinct sound, but the only thing he could hear were the footsteps on the hard floor.

There was the sound of a door being kicked open, and light being flicked on.

“Am I going backwards, or you?” Jay suddenly asked.

Deuce huffed. “You, dumbass.”

Jay sighed, and resumed walking. Suddenly, Danny’s feet were being tilted down, and the walking was distorted and jerky. They were going down stairs. Probably a basement. Where Danny couldn’t be heard by anyone from the outside. Fucking awesome.

“Did you clean the room?” Deuce asked breathlessly as they descended further down the stairs.

“Of course, Kurlzz left a huge ass mess,” Jay replied.

“Good.”

Danny didn’t want to think about what kind of mess they were talking about. Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs, but their journey wasn’t over. There was some more walking, and then again, a door was kicked open.

The sharp smell of cleaner filled Danny’s nose, and he strained against the men’s grips. It smelled as if bleach was just sitting in puddles on the floor, in a room without ventilation or windows.

The two men stopped for a moment, then Danny was harshly plopped down onto a chair. It was extremely cold, and seemed to just sap what little body heat Danny had managed to hold onto, even through his clothes.

Deuce held his hands on Danny’s shoulders as Jay attacked the cuffs to the legs and arms of the chair.

“There, he’s good.”

“Great, now go get the others.” Deuce clapped his hands down onto Danny’s shoulders.

“Please?”

Deuce sighed, and dug his fingers into Danny’s shoulders. “ _Please_ go get the others. Now.”

“As you wish.” Jay’s footsteps faded away, leaving Danny tense as he was alone with the leader.

“You’re gonna love us,” Deuce whispered too close to his ear. “We’re like a family.”

Danny held back a shudder; he couldn’t show any signs of weakness. He wanted to scream, or fight back, or cry, or just do anything, but he couldn’t. He had to be strong, and not give these fuckers any signs of the fear that was currently building in the base of his stomach. He was still furious about being kidnapped, but he was starting to grow more scared as he realized the horror of his situation.

The door opened again, and this time several sets of footsteps entered the room. Once they all stopped, Deuce wordlessly began untying the blindfold. Danny gulped as it fell away, and tensed at the sight before him.

Five men, all in masks, stood in a half circle in front of them. Jay was standing on the far left, and next to him was a man in a two-faced, white mask.

Next to him, was a tall man in a sailor hat, and a blue mask that had a butterfly on the left side, and a black 3 on the right, with a tattoo of a three on his neck.

Then, there was man with sunglasses and a black bandanna that had a white outline of a city, and something written along the top that Danny couldn’t quite read.

Finally, there was a man with a black mesh type fabric mask, with three dots on the left side and the initals “FM” in gold on the right side.

“Let me introduce you,” Deuce said loudly. “There’s J-Dog, Da Kurlzz, Johnny 3 Tears, Charlie Scene, and I believe you know good ol’ Funnyman.” He pointed at each man as he went.

Danny glared at all of them, trying to mask his growing fear with a scowl. These men were all pretty tall, and well built. Danny doubted whether he could actually take one down, much less all six of them.

“Now, why don’t you tell them your name?” Deuce asked, trying to sound sweet and inviting.

Danny didn’t say anything, and kept his gaze straight ahead.

Deuce sighed, then brought his hand to Danny’s cheek with enough force for the sound to echo throughout the room. Danny’s eyes watered, and he let out a sharp hiss. He hastily blinked away the tears, and tried to ignore his burning cheek.

“Tell them your name,” Deuce commanded, slowly enunciating each word. “No one likes a hero, babe.”

“Daniel Murillo,” Danny said through clenched teeth. He tightened his hands around the arms of the metal chair, resisting the urge to shift in his seat.

“This one’s cute,” The man in the blue mask, Johnny, spoke up. He pointed his crystal blue eyes at Danny with a predatory gaze. Just like the other four men standing in front of him were.

Normally, Danny didn’t mind having this many sets of eyes on him. But those gazes were usually filled with lust; the gazes from these masked men were filled with something that sent shivers down his spine.

Each of them had their own aura of power; they were used to compliance, and expected nothing less of it. They all radiated a kind of power Danny could only dream of possessing.

“Damn right, he is,” Funnyman agreed. “I’ve been stalking this one for weeks, can you imagine how hard it was for me to not pounce on him right fucking there?”

“I’m sure it was _very_ hard,” Charlie said. He clearly rolled his eyes, even though they were covered with sunglasses. “How difficult it must’ve been for you to have an easy job for once.”

“I’m glad you agree, Charles.” Funnyman chuckled, then set his gaze back on Danny. “Are we gonna have this one on a schedule too?”

Danny gulped; how many have there been before him? Why was he even here?

“Yes, we are,” Deuce answered, sounding irritated. “We’ve had them on a schedules for a long ass time, we ain’t changing that.”

Da Kurlzz slapped Johnny’s shoulder. “How long do you think this one will last?”

Charlie scoffed, and gestured wildly to Danny. “Fifty bucks says three months, tops.”

“That’s a lot,” Da Kurlzz said. “I say one month.”

“Shit, how long did the last one last?” Funnyman asked.

“Around six months,” Deuce said. “Then Johnny-boy had to go and kill him.”

Johnny shrugged, and lifted his gaze to meet the leader’s. “We’ve all done one in before. How’d you do it, boss? Choked him during a threesome?”

Danny blinked, really hoping that they were all joking about this. Were they actually betting on his fucking life? Did one guy before him die during a threesome? What the fuck _were_ these people?

Deuce laughed, slapping Danny’s shoulder loudly. “Yeah, that was a hell of night, right Jay?”  
Jay nodded, and crossed his arms. “Until we ended up having to bury him, yeah.”  
“Shit, which one was that?” Deuce tapped his fingers along the chair as he tried to answer his own question. “Jeff?”  
“Sure,” Jay shrugged. “Can’t really remember. It was a while ago.”

Deuce slammed his hands down onto Danny’s shoulders, making him jump with the force. “So, now that introductions are over, you all have jobs to do.”

The five men all filed out of the room, each of them grumbling about something. Danny held his breath when Jay slammed the door shut, leaving him alone with the leader of the fucking gang that kidnapped him.

“So,” Deuce began, swinging himself around the chair and placing himself in Danny’s lap. “What do you think?”

Danny took a deep breath, and tried not to think about damn close he was to the boss. He shifted his legs, trying to adjust how Deuce was fucking sitting on him. For a scrawny ass man, he weighed a lot.

Deuce leaned in closer, blocking Danny’s view from anything else. Danny tried to look between his eyes, but those stupid brown orbs were focused on him with such a weird gaze that Danny couldn’t look away.

“I asked you a question,” Deuce reminded him with a dangerous tone, tilting his head to the side. He looped his arms around Danny’s neck, and brought himself closer.

“What do you want me to say?” Danny asked, attempting to keep his face blank and his voice neutral. He was all too aware of every spot where Deuce was touching him, and even the body heat being emitted from him; again, the urge to just bite the boss’ arm was damn near overwhelming.

“Nothing, just listen,” Deuce said. He brought his hand up, and began twirling a lock of his blonde hair. “You’re gonna spend these first few nights with me, in my room. And after that, your room is gonna here, in the basement. Every one or two nights, you will serve one of my brothers, however they want.

You’re gonna live here, and you’re gonna serve your purpose.”

“And what exactly is my purpose?” Danny asked apprehensively. He had a good idea of what his “purpose” was going to be, but he wanted to hear it from someone else.

Deuce drew back just enough, and Danny knew that he was smirking under that mask.

“You’re gonna be our dirty little slut,” Deuce muttered, letting his hands wander down to Danny’s chest. “And I think we chose the perfect whore for it.”


	2. The Two J's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny suffered through the first week of his new life. Now, he starts the schedule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *potential triggers*  
> The tags have been updated, so please check them out just to be safe. Please enjoy this chapter!

Danny had spent an entire week with Deuce in his room. Seven days, one hundred sixty-eight hours, however many minutes that was. Too fucking long. It had been the worst week of his life, and that was saying something.

Danny had been locked in Deuce’s room for the entire week. He hadn’t been allowed to leave for anything; there was a bathroom offset from the bedroom, so there wasn’t even the option to leave for that.

There wasn’t a window in that room either; the bare walls seemed to make the roar in his mind all too loud.

Deuce hadn’t even bothered to wait one night before he went right for Danny. He was harsh, and rough, and insatiable; every moment with him was pure agony.

Danny was currently alone in his own “room” in the basement. It was his first night away from the leader.

The silence of his room was somewhat comforting. No one with an awful, nasally voice was trying to make him scream.

It made his throat close up, and threatened to make his chest collapse in on itself when he thought about what happened.

“I was…” Danny whispered to himself, but he couldn’t finish the sentence. He took a deep breath, and shut his eyes. “I was… fucking hell.” He couldn’t say it. Why couldn’t he fucking say it?

It was simple. Four letters. One word. A horrible crime. So why couldn’t he fucking say it?

“Spell it out,” Danny suggested to himself. “R...a...p...e...” He took one final breath, and raised his head. “I was raped.” He couldn’t help but cough as he said it, but he knew that he needed to say it. “I was raped.” His voice was still shaking, but it was more firm this time around.

He felt uncomfortable saying it. Men weren’t raped. No one heard of men getting raped, they only heard of women getting raped and men denying the action. It felt too weird that he, a man, was raped. And yet, it was the only thing that could properly describe what had been done to him.

The metal door to his metal cell was thrown open with enough force that the door hit the wall. The sound made Danny jump, and nearly piss himself.

Jay entered the room, and tilted his head when he noticed Danny curled up on his mattress, pale and frightened. “You good?”  
“You don’t care,” Danny murmured, unsure if he was actually heard He scrambled into what could resemble a sitting position, grimacing during the process. His entire lower half hurt – wait, no, scratch that - his entire fucking body hurt. He was covered in bruises, courtesy of the bastard of a boss these people had.

“You’re right, but you also know what back-talking gets you.” Jay crossed his arms, and leaned against the metal wall.

Danny nodded slowly, fighting against a wave of flashbacks that he desperately wished to avoid. “How could I forget?”

“Come on, we’re going up to my room.” Jay’s tone left no room for opposition.

Danny held back a groan, and very slowly, stood up from the mattress. Even though he was using the wall to prop himself up, every movement sent sparks of pain flying all over his body, followed by a choice string of curses. Once he was standing on the cold metal floor – without shoes or socks, mind you – he let out a deep breath.

Jay just watched him struggle with a disinterested gaze. “You done?”

Danny blinked. “Yes.”

“Great. Follow me. Try anything, and you’ll regret it.” Jay swiveled around, and opened the door.

Danny didn’t move; he waited for the masked man to make the first move. Jay noticed, and rolled his eyes. He reached out, and wrapped his arm’s around Danny’s, yanking him forward. “Let’s go.”

Danny yelped as he was forced to walk forward, igniting the pain in his legs. Jay didn’t give him a second glance, just pulled him along.

As they walked through a long hallway, Danny tried to keep an eye on his surroundings, but Jay went too fast for him to focus on anything other than keeping his feet steady.

Danny paused when they reached the flight of stairs. Jay scowled when he was forced to stop walking.

“What the fuck is wrong?” He asked harshly.

“I… I can’t easily go up stairs,” Danny said, hoping that the masked man would get his meaning, and be some kind of sympathetic.

Jay thought for a moment. “Don’t care.” He tightened his grip around Danny’s arms, then proceeded to essentially drag him up the stairs.

Danny struggled up every step, and being pulled up by what seemed to be a machine didn’t help. He couldn’t count the amount of times he almost fell onto his face, only to be barely saved by the masked man tugging him along.

After what seemed to be an eternity of steps – but what was really only three flights’ worth – the two men finally made it to the top floor.

Down the hall, Danny could spot the door to Deuce’s room. He shuddered just looking at it. Once again, the haunting memories of what happened in that room threatened to make his throat close up, but he forced them away. He had to be strong; he couldn’t linger on the past, he had to focus on surviving the future.

Jay dragged him into the room right next to Deuce’s, and shut the door firmly behind him.

Danny took this brief moment to examine his new environment. Jay’s room was horribly filthy; dirty clothes, empty liquor bottles, and crumpled plastic baggies littered every available surface except the unmade bed.

The only furniture in the room was a wooden desk shoved into the cover, a wooden wardrobe in the opposite corner, and a nightstand next to the large bed. The walls were gray, and bare of any decoration. The one thing that caught Danny’s attention was a window on the far wall, but the view was hidden by black curtains.

Danny then noticed the floor was covered with a dark carpet, and he let his bare feet rest flat against it. It felt so nice compared to the cold metal floor of his cell.

“Sit down,” Jay broke the silence, making Danny jump.

Danny obliged, and sat down on the edge of the bed. He placed his hands down beside him, and felt how nice and soft the sheets were. He ran his fingers along the smooth fabric, enjoying the nice feeling.

He felt the bed dip down beside him, and froze when Jay sat way too close to him.

“You’ve spent an entire week with the boss. I hope you know how lucky you are.”

That simple sentence made Danny want to scream. He was anything _but_ lucky to spend an entire week being… raped by that scrawny bastard. He didn’t look at the masked man beside him, instead choosing to keep his glare focused on the t-shirt laying on the ground in front of his feet.

Jay really needed to clean his fucking room. There were probably ants living in this nest.

Jay spread out slightly so that every inch of his body was exposed to the shitty yellow ceiling light weakly shining on them. “But I bet you knew that.”

Danny took a deep breath to try and calm himself. He knew that the masked man was trying to make him angry, and make him act out. So he remained silent, and just hoped that Jay’s torture would be more endurable than Deuce’s.

“I mean, this has got to be a dream for you,” Jay continued, looking up as he seemed to get carried away within his thoughts. “Living your life as a sex doll for six horny gangsters. Especially for someone like you.”

_Deep breath, Danny. Inhale, then exhale. Don’t give this bastard a response. Just stand there, and make it out this alive._

Somehow, this mantra did nothing to calm Danny down. His blood still boiled, and he still wanted to rip the bastard’s face off.

“You gonna say anything? I know you ain’t a mute or some shit, so come on. Tell me how great it was, being with the boss for an entire week. I would kill to get that. And trust me, I’ve killed for less.”

Danny tried to just swallow his anger, but it got caught in his throat. His hands tightened into fists; he could feel his ragged, broken nails digging into his palm, but he didn’t stop. Hopefully, the pain would ground him before he could do something stupid.

He wasn’t even given the chance. Jay grew impatient, and launched himself onto Danny’s lap with enough force to knock him flat onto the bed. Danny groaned as Jay’s legs pressed uncomfortably against his thighs, forcing them against the bed.

Jay’s hands were on his shoulders, keeping Danny’s back flat and strongly pressed against the bed. Jay tilted his head ever so slightly, eyeing Danny with lust plain in his brown eyes. Jay leaned down, so that the lips of his mask were almost touching Danny’s.

“I know you like to fight,” Jay said, his tone matter-of-fact and more than slightly aggravating. He withdrew, allowing Danny to let out the breath he’d been holding in.

Jay reached one hand up to undo his mask. He let it clatter to the floor, giving Danny his first look at the face of J-Dog.

He was surprisingly attractive. Dark hair, brown eyes, and nice, squishy cheeks.

_Wait, what? No, Danny, bad. Stop that. He’s a_ _criminal_ _,_ _for fuck’s sake_ _! He isn’t pretty, or attractive, or anything like that_ _!_

Jay leaned back down, and this time, Danny could feel how fucking close they were. He could feel Jay’s breath against his lips, no matter how much he tried to press himself further into the bed to escape.

“Show me the kinda fight you got,” Jay demanded before launching a torrent of a kiss onto Danny’s lips.

Jay was all harsh and biting, clacking their teeth and biting Danny’s lips. Given any other situation on the entire planet, it might’ve been hot. Danny just found it infuriating, and this time, he couldn’t hold back.

Danny began fighting back, giving Jay what he apparently wanted. He began kissing back, taking as many opportunities as he could to bite, and he began straining against Jay’s grip on his shoulders.

“There you go,” Jay breathed. “Fucking fight me, you whore.”

Danny isn’t proud to say that he gave in. He isn’t proud to say that he was still raped; Jay claimed to take it easy on him, but it felt like the worst kind of hell. Jay was all possessive, and biting and bruising, leaving no more than an inch of Danny unmarked.

Afterwords, Jay didn’t even say anything. He just made Danny put on the black sweatpants he had been given by Deuce, and limp his agonizingly painful way back to his cell. It was a walk of shame, but with much more shame than he had thought was humanly possible.

Tears threatened to spill onto his cold cheeks as Danny shut himself in his cell. The door didn’t lock, at least not from the inside. He wasn’t safe; at any moment, one of the other criminals could barge in here, and do whatever they wanted to him.

Danny groaned in despair as he sat down on the filthy mattress that did nothing to impede the cold metal floor from seeping what body heat he had left. He felt as disgusting as the mattress was.

He did the thing he promised to never do, and he had given in to one of these fucking thugs. As much as he regretted his actions, he couldn’t deny the minuscule catharsis getting to actually bruise Jay brought him. But it was still nothing compared to what had been taken from him.

Danny briefly wondered if things would ever get better. He knew that tomorrow night, he would either be with Jay again or be passed onto Johnny. He didn’t know which he preferred less.

Johnny was definitely bigger than Jay, and seemed to care a lot less for Danny as human being, but Danny didn’t want to endure another night of thinking that he had a chance to rebel against one of these criminals, only to have his dignity stripped away once more.

There was barely a few moments of meaningful silence before the door to his cell was thrown open, revealing Jay, wearing his mask again, with a something in his hands. The smell of roast meat wafted into the room, reaching out to Danny’s stomach, and making it rumble with enough force to rattle his bones. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. Deuce didn’t believe in daily feedings.

Danny scrambled up, leaning against the wall as a spark of pain took his breath away.

“You can sit,” Jay said.

Danny sent a silent thanks, and let himself slide down against the wall until he was sitting back down on the filthy mattress.

Jay began slowly, very fucking slowly, walking to the opposite corner of the room. He crouched down in front of Danny. He placed the metal tray he had been holding on the cold floor, but held up his hand before Danny could reach for the food. He used his other hand to cup Danny’s cheek, forcing him to meet his intense gaze.

Danny suddenly felt embarrassed of his tear-stained cheeks as he felt the masked man’s warm hand hold his face so gently. Then he remembered what had just happened less than half an hour ago, and he wanted to bite the man’s hand off.

“Deuce was right,” Jay murmured, a slight grin spreading on his very-bitten and still bleeding lips. “You’re a hell of a ride, so I brought you some extra food. Eat up, kitten. Just leave the tray by the door when you’re done.”

Without another word, Jay stood, and left the room, softly shutting the door as he departed.

Danny didn’t give the criminal’s words a second thought before he dug into the food. It tasted absolutely divine; roast beef, with mashed potatoes and green beans. A better meal than he’d had in a long ass time. These guys may be thugs, but at least one of them knew how to cook.

Or maybe that was just his own hunger speaking for him. Either way, the food was good. And hot. Very nice to have in a metal cell.

Within no time at all, Danny had finished the food. He was full, and feeling sleepy, but at the same time, his mind wouldn’t calm the fuck down like the rest of his body seemed to.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Jay had said. Apparently, being a good little victim earned him more food. Better than starving… maybe.

The little pet name had also struck a nerve within Danny. He’d had his fair share of pet names from clients – mainly the regulars who got a little too friendly – but this one angered him.

Jay didn’t deserve to call him a kitten. Danny wasn’t some cute and cuddly creature, and he felt that such a disgusting criminal had no right to call him such a thing. It was praise in a terrible way, and Danny would never accept it.

The good feeling Danny had managed to capture from the food was now dissipating faster than he could tell. He felt much colder than before as all he was left with disgust and hatred. Only now, he couldn’t tell whether it was directed at the masked man or himself.

He kicked the tray, sending it flying to the other side of the room. It clattered against the wall; the sound echoed endlessly, adding onto the list of things wrong with the world.

Something wet and burning dripped onto his hand; Danny realized he was crying, for the first time in what felt like and probably was years. Once the first few tears fell, a torrent followed. Devastated sobs wrack his body, shaking him to the core as he let control of his body be torn from him yet again; only this time, it was given to all of his emotions.

He raked his hands through his hair, yanking on the ends, as he continued to sob uncontrollably. It was the only thing he can hear; the sound of his pain echoing around in his mind, drowning out any other thought.

It was only when it felt like his throat is burning that he stopped. It was only when he felt as if his lungs were about to collapse and suffocate him that he stopped. It was only when he felt so exhausted, he just _c_ _ouldn_ _’t_ keep going, that he stopped.

Somehow, the silence was worse than if the still air was being broken with screams of terror. The silence was oppressive, and pushed in the walls of his mind until it was too small an area for the multitude of fractured thoughts trying to make their way into cohesion.

He tried to find something to ground himself with, but there was nothing that could do the job. Normally, he would pick a wound, like a scratch or a bruise, and focus on the pain it generated.

But every wound he had now is just a cruel reminder of why he needs to ground himself in the first place.

“Oh, good, you finally stopped.”

Danny whipped his head to the door, and stilled when he saw Jay standing in the doorway.

Jay’s arms were crossed, and his foot was tapping against the metal floor. “We get it, you have some lungs, but don’t scream them out. It’s fucking annoying, ok? If it happens again, we’ll have to gag you, and not in the fun way. Keep it the fuck down, or you’ll be going to Deuce tomorrow night, understood?”

Danny swallowed, and kept his gaze on Jay’s shoes. Jay’s nice shoes protecting his feet from the cold fucking floor.

“Answer me, kitten.”

That fucking nickname again. God, he hated it. “Yes,” Danny choked out. “I understand.”

“Was that really so hard?”

“No.”

Danny didn’t look up, even when he heard Jay retrieve the metal tray from across the room, then leave. He didn’t look up until he heard the door closed, and he knew he was alone.

“Fuck,” Danny whispered to himself.

He couldn’t cry anymore. If he did, he’d get punished.

No more tears. No more sobbing. He could do that. He’d managed to go several years without crying even once, so he could do this. Besides, men don’t cry. Men are tough, strong creatures who don’t cry. Right?

Danny’s thoughts took him back to his childhood, when one time, he had fallen and scraped his knees, and his friends had discovered him crying.

“Boys don’t cry,” They said. “Only girls do. If you’re a boy, and you cry, then you’re a pussy.”  
Danny hadn’t cried more than once or twice since that. He definitely cried when his family had disowned for his chosen profession, but other than that, Danny couldn’t remember a single instance when he had cried.

He could get through this without crying. He could get through this, period. He had too.

The following night, Jay decided to have him again before passing him on. It had been the same as the previous; Jay taunting Danny until he gave in to the viciousness of it all, and Jay rewarding Danny with an apparently large portion of food.

Danny doubted whether he was _actually_ getting extra food for being a “good little victim,” as Jay put it this time, but he also wasn’t about to question getting a hot meal.

Jay had called Danny a kitten three times tonight. He hated the pet-name so much he apparently needed to track each time he was called it. All three times, Danny wanted to slap him, but he couldn’t.

For the rest of the day, when he wasn’t to be in one of the masked men’s rooms, Danny was locked in his cell. With nothing to entertain himself for hours upon hours. If this is how he would live, he would go mad long before anyone had a chance to save him.

The blank metal walls seemed to mock him for his boredom. They didn’t have a concept of boredom, because they were fucking walls; inanimate objects with one purpose. Their simplicity made Danny’s blood boil with jealousy. What he wouldn’t give to be an inanimate object. No boredom, no suffering, just serving one purpose they weren’t even aware of.

All this nothing did give Danny time to go over the entirety of his life; all of his choices, going as far back into his childhood as he could remember, which isn’t much to be honest. He liked to think he had a good childhood, but something must’ve gone wrong if he resorted to being a hooker in the streets of Hollywood.

His mother, his father, and all but one of his brothers had disowned him for it. They cast him aside, claiming that he didn’t belong in the family. The only thing that tied him to the rest of his family were all the legal things, like his last name and birth certificate.

And yet, thinking about them now, all Danny wanted to do was give them a hug, and tell them that he missed them. But he couldn’t. And he might never be able to.

More tears threatened to spill over his eyes, but Danny blinked them away. He had bigger issues to face at the moment than regretting his life choices.

Like the fact that he could hear one of the masked men arrive at his fucking cell door. Again, without a knock – these people never knocked, it’s like they were complete apes - the door was thrown open.

Johnny stood in the doorway, wearing the same outfit that Danny had seen him wearing when he first arrived here, over a week ago: black clothes with his blue mask and white sailor hat.

“Let’s go,” Johnny ordered, his tone imperious and frightening. This particular gang member frightened more than the others, purely because the guy was fucking huge. Even through his clothes, it was obvious that Johnny was more like a rock. Or a fridge, perhaps.

Danny stood from his bed, keeping his head down as he followed Johnny up the stairs. Like Deuce’s and Jay’s, his room was on the top floor, and was the one closest to the stairwell.

Unlike Deuce’s and Jay’s, his room was surprisingly clean. Very little clutter was on the floors, and the bed in the corner was made, and Johnny even had a bookshelf in his room. It was stuffed full of different kinds of books, all of them looking dust-free and well-loved.

“Get on the bed,” Johnny commanded, shoving Danny forward. “Let’s test you out, bitch.”

Danny couldn’t escape from that room soon enough. He damn near sprinted down the stairs, as much as his hurting body would let him. He barely made it through the door before he collapsed onto the floor against the door, ignoring how cold it was.

Everything fucking hurt. Danny stifled a sob by biting down on his strained hand. He couldn’t sob; Deuce would yell at him, and his throat already burned so much; Johnny liked to make him scream, and he succeeded.

It made Danny want to slit his throat thinking about ever going back to Johnny’s room. He couldn’t withstand that kind of pain again. It was worse than he thought he would ever endure in his life.

What sickened him most was that the entire fucking time, Johnny was turned on. Johnny was having the time of his life while Danny was trying to just remain _conscious_ during the entire session.

Danny let out a yelp when the door tried to open, hitting his back. He scampered across the floor towards his mattress, and collapsed in the corner, with his bare back to the metal wall.

The door fully opened, revealing Johnny holding a tray of food. His mask was back on, but Danny could feel the frown he must’ve been sporting.

“I brought food, if you want it.” Johnny placed the tray on the floor, and kicked it over to where Danny was. “No extra serving, I’m not as easily persuaded as Jay is.”

Danny couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit disappointed at the small serving, but he mostly just felt angered. He had been used in a horribly humiliating way, and his suffering didn’t merit a certain amount of food?

“Gotta say, you’re… you’re good. I bet you were top of the list when you were a hooker.”

Danny didn’t look up from the tray of food, but he suddenly found his appetite to be nonexistent.

“So fuckin’ tight. I can guarantee that we’re all gonna want the two full nights with you.” Johnny chuckled to himself, then tilted his head when he realized he wasn’t getting a response. “Fucking say something.”

“Something,” Danny muttered before he could stop himself.

“What was that?” Johnny straightened his posture, and crossed his arms, accentuating the threat underlining his question.

Danny pressed himself further into the corner, and shut his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it-”

“Save it,” Johnny snapped. “I can punish you tomorrow. But, you’ll need your strength.” He gave Danny one last look, then left the room, slamming the door hard enough that Danny could feel it from the opposite corner.

“Shit,” Danny took heavy breaths, and let his shoulders relax. He tried to ignore the dread that was building in his stomach, threatening to turn off what remained of his appetite. The thought of tomorrow night being worse actually sounded impossible, but Johnny wasn’t one to hold back on his promises.

Danny slowly ate his food, attempting and failing to savor every bite. It wasn’t food anymore. It was energy that would be spent tomorrow night when he would raped again. And then again the next night. And again. And again. What a life he lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, feel free to leave a comment!


	3. The Last Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the last little bit of Danny's introduction to the Undead and his new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm gonna try and keep a steady schedule of updating every week, I think it's a good time frame so that I don't overwork myself and I can put out high-ish quality content for you guys, so with that said, please enjoy this chapter!

Danny wished he could say that the next night with Johnny went by faster than he could tell. But it was the exact opposite. He could remember every single moment. He could still feel the criminal’s hands on him, leaving every demeaning mark on his already disfigured skin.

It seemed like days before he was allowed to leave Johnny’s room, returning to the relative safety of his own cell. Again, Johnny brought food – no extra serving like before – and plenty of praise. Danny still didn’t like the verbal approval; he’d rather these men show their apparent appreciation by treating him less like a sex doll and more like a human. But that was just one more thing on the list of infinite wishes that Danny had made in this place that would never come true.

The day had gone by at odd intervals. Danny would shift between states of questionable consciousness; at some points, the day seemed to drag on for what seemed like weeks, while at other points, the entirety of an hour seemed to disappear with the blink of his eyes.

Time didn’t truly exist in this room, Danny concluded. In this cell without any windows or clocks, with the only indicator of time being the arrival of a criminal in the night, time didn’t exist. It didn’t need to; it had uses elsewhere. Places more important than this metal room required time’s presence more.

Danny merely existed until the next criminal would arrive at his door, and begin a new period of suffering.

Tonight was supposed to be Da Kurlzz’s night. Danny didn’t how he felt about that. The only impression he had of the man with the two-faced mask was that he didn’t expect Danny to last more than a month here. Honestly, Danny couldn’t tell whether he expected that either.

The days were filled with mind-numbing boredom, and the nights with painful, undignified suffering. A month of this might as well be an eternity of torture.

Think of the devil and he will appear. The door to his cell was thrown open, and Da Kurlzz marched in with his mask on. His curly hair bounced with every step, which was kind of amusing to look at.

Danny stood up, ignoring the pain in his strained body as he stared down the masked man now in front of him.

“On your knees,” Da Kurlzz ordered.

“Why?” Danny obliged nonetheless, but he was still very confused and a little offended. Did none of these people know the word “please”?

“We’re doing this here. Just fucking blow me, I have shit to do.”

The short time spent with Da Kurlzz was weird. All he wanted was a blowjob, and then he left. He barely said anything, before, during, or after. Once he came, he just left. Danny didn’t know how to feel about it, other than he hated that he was forced to swallow unless he wanted to spit cum onto the floor.

It was nice not to have to actually be fucked by Kurlzz though. It was a somewhat pleasant change of pace. No added injuries, no dehumanizing remarks, just a quick job and then he was off the hook. Still horrible, still disgusting, but nicer than what the other men had put him through.

The next night was the same; Kurlzz stopped by for a quick blowjob, then left. Though this time, he returned a little later with a tray of food and something else.

“Here, a clean pair of pants, muffin.” Kurlzz placed the black pants next to the food, then left.

Danny was intrigued, to say the least. Why did Kurlzz spend so little time with him? Wasn’t his main job to serve as a means of catharsis for these psychopaths? How was a quick blowjob supposed to actually do that? And why did he call him muffin? Out of all the pet names that exist, he chose a baked treat?

And why clean sweatpants? Even though it felt nice to be in a clean pair of pants, Danny would rather have a shower or larger meal. His thoughts briefly flashed to Jay and his rewards, but he dismissed that train of thought quickly.

Danny couldn’t go around actually _trying_ to please these criminals for rewards. He may have sold his body as a profession in the past, but he wouldn’t go that far now. He had standards. Even if his standards might seem ridiculous given his current situation where every day was a new fight.

But whatever. All Danny could do was take what was given, and not do something that might get him killed. Just survive until the next day, until he could find a way to get free from these people.

 ~

After a day filled with boredom upon boredom upon boredom, night had arrived for Danny. And with the new night, a new man to have him.

There was a brief knock on the door, and then it was cracked open. Charlie poked his head through, still wearing his bandanna and sunglasses.

“Hey, you,” He said with a cheerful tone. “What’s new?”

“Really?” Danny stood up, leaning on the wall as he eyed the masked man. “Nothing much, _man_.”

Charlie laughed, and it wasn’t actually an annoying sound. It almost bordered on sounding cute.

_Goddammit, Danny, stop that!_

“Come on, you. We got a party to start.”

“A party?” Danny raised an eyebrow, and slowly walked across the room. He didn’t even want to imagine what a party with these people entailed.

Charlie shrugged. “Not really. No music, no booze, no drugs, no other chicks or dudes, so I guess not really a party. But I mean, hey, we can still have a great time.”

Danny scoffed, and followed the masked man as he began to walk down the hallway. “If you say so.”

“Come on, lighten up, dammit! We’re gonna have a great time!” Charlie reached over to grab Danny’s hand, and pulled him along at a slightly quicker pace.

Danny wondered if these men would ever stop trying to yank his arms off by pulling him everywhere. He could walk fine on his own – mostly, anyways, his legs were still sore as shit – so he didn’t need a babysitter to hold his hand as they walked.

Eventually they made it to Charlie’s room. It was just as filthy as Jay’s, although this time, a stale weed odor accompanied the trash and dirty clothes all over the floor. There also seemed to be a surplus of empty, crinkling plastic baggies everywhere.

“I know it’s a mess, I haven’t had a chance to clean in way too fucking long. I also hate cleaning, but that’s besides the point.” Charlie shrugged, then went over to his bed. He let himself fall onto his back, bouncing lightly with a smile. He made grabby hands towards the blonde man. “Come here, Dan.”   
Danny sighed, and sat down on the edge of the bed, next to the masked man’s feet. He had no idea what to expect from this particular man; he hadn’t made a real impression when Danny had first arrived to this hellhole, the day his entire life had turned to shit.

“I said come here, not stay over there.” Charlie sat up, and placed both his hands on Danny’s shoulders. “Jesus Christ, have you even been with a guy before?”

Danny’s jaw dropped as he turned to face the masked man behind him. “What… ar-are you serious?”

With his entire fucking face covered, it was difficult to tell. Charlie was silent for a moment, then started laughing. Or maybe it closer to giggling. Either way, Danny didn’t laugh, which the masked man noticed.

“Shit, man, that was funny!”

Danny scowled. It really wasn’t funny, but he wasn’t going to say that. “Hilarious.”

Charlie pulled Danny back so that he was lying on the bed, feeling the soft sheets on his bare back, with Charlie leaning over him. It was unnerving to look at those sunglasses he wore; even at this close distance, the lens were so dark that Danny couldn’t even see his actual eyes. Where the fuck did someone even get sunglasses this dark?

“Relax, baby. I promise we’re both gonna have a good time tonight.” Charlie’s voice suddenly dropped two or three octaves, sounding soft and gentle.

Danny shook his head, and shut his eyes.”You so sure about that, ‘baby’?”

“I am. And even if I’m wrong, _I’ll_ have a good time.” Charlie let his hands travel down the blonde’s torso, tracing idle patterns on his skin as his hands got closer and closer to the waistline of his sweatpants.

The good time that Charlie promised was more or less a lie. Danny didn’t have a good time; he still had no control over any aspect of the situation, and it pissed him off.

Charlie seemed to realize this, and did something that the blonde would never have expected from any man in this building; Charlie hugged him afterwards. It was quick, and kind of awkward, but it was still a soft, gentle hug.

“You can go now,” Charlie said, withdrawing into himself as he stood up from the bed.

Danny refrained from spouting the line of curses he’d been wanting to say for however long he’d been in this room. He just stood up, put on his pants, and headed for the door.

“Dan!”

Danny wilted as he was forced to stop; he was so close to the door, couldn’t he just go back to his room already? “Yes?”

Even though Charlie already had kept his mask on the entire time, it was obvious he was sporting a Cheshire-type grin. “I had a great time, baby.”

“Good for you. Can I go?”

Charlie scoffed. “Yes, whatever, just go.”

Danny didn’t waste any time after that, rushing to his room. The stairs were still a bit of a hassle; he doubted he would ever be healed enough that going up and down them would cease to hurt.

He began his usual ritual of slamming his door shut, and collapsing onto his mattress. God, he was exhausted. Every bone in his body ached, every muscle was strained, and his brain felt like it was muddled just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be an issue.

Sleep continued to play cruel games with him, always luring him close and toying with him, but he could never catch it. He hadn’t had a dream since he arrived to this godforsaken house. Even a nightmare would be welcome, but his pitiful slumbers remained short and void of any imagery.

It didn’t help that Danny couldn’t get Charlie out of his thoughts. Well, it was mainly the hug that bothered him the most. Why would Charlie even bother with being nice like that, after what he’d done?

Danny decided it was out of pity, so he hated it. Any action done out of pity disgusted him, it always has. He never liked it before, and now, he especially detests it. Charlie could keep his meaningless hugs, Danny concluded. They served no purpose, so why waste the effort?

_Even though it did feel really nice… no! No, no, and another no, because it was still from a criminal, Danny!_ _You can’t let these tiny acts of kindness mean anything!_

_~_

Tonight was the last night of his introduction to all the masked men. Tonight was the night he had looking forward to the least; it was Funnyman’s night. The one who had picked him out against all the others; the one who dragged him into this perverted nightmare of a life.

“Oh, Danny!” Someone sang from behind his door, before opening the door.

Funny poked his head through, wearing the black sock mask with the three little dots. “Danny, Danny, Danny!”   
“Yeah?” Danny repressed a sigh, and stood from his mattress.

“Yes,” Funny corrected him.

“For th… yes?”

Funny giggled like a small child. “Guess what time it is?”

Danny gulped. “Time for me to go with you?”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner! And the prize is… my dick!” Funny laughed as his own joke, while Danny chuckled along out of fear. “Now come on.”

Danny hissed as Funny grabbed his arm, and yanked him out of his cell. Danny was dragged up to the second floor, where Charlie’s and presumably Kurlzz’s rooms were as well.

Funny pushed him into the third bedroom, and harshly shut the door behind them. The first thing that Danny noticed was the stench of weed, as well as an insane amount of empty liquor bottles. Was Johnny the only man here who kept a clean room? How could these psychopaths live in such deplorable conditions?

“Stand right there, under the light,” Funny ordered.

Danny complied, and stood under the bright ceiling light. He had no idea what he was doing, but he felt uncomfortable. None of the others had him just stand, so he didn’t really know what to expect.

Funnyman slowly circled around Danny, obviously eyeing him down from top to bottom. Danny couldn’t see his eyes, but he knew that he was being scrutinized with the gaze of a predator.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” Funny muttered, reaching out a hand to trace along Danny’s shoulders as he paced around him. “You know, I was told to pick out some helpless whore on the streets. But then I saw you.

You and your absolutely amazing body, strutting down the streets like you own them. Took all I had not to just ravish you the very first time I saw you.”

“How gracious of you,” Danny murmured under his breath. He winced as he said it, expecting an immediate punishment.

Funny just laughed. “And there’s the spunk! Goddamn, you’re the total package!”

Danny just took a deep breath, and kept his gaze on the ceiling. “Thank you.”

“I have a little proposition for you,” Funny announced, sitting down on the edge of his bed, right in front of the blonde man.

“What is it?” Danny asked, shifting his gaze to Funny’s neck. It was easier to look at than his masked face.

“The other guys have told me all about how great you are,” Funny reached out to grab the drawstrings of Danny’s sweatpants, and gave them a light tug. “And even though I was the one to choose you, I still haven’t gotten to try you.”

Danny clenched his fists, trying to hide to his fury. He’d gotten pretty good at it through out these past two weeks, but sometimes, he just wanted to scream. “What’s your proposition?”

Funny chuckled, and yanked the drawstrings more. “I’m getting to that. I just want to give you a little glimpse of what I’ve gone through. I’ve had to watch all the other guys have you, two nights each, a _week_ for Deuce, and tell me _all_ about it.”

Danny sucked in his breath, and begun expecting the worst. Were the other masked men disappointed with him, and wanted to switch him out? Even though they still claimed to be pleased enough to reward him?

“I’ve been horribly jealous, Danny. I mean, I picked you out from the streets, I _saved_ you from them, ya know?” Funny looked up, attempting to meet Danny’s glare, but it was difficult to tell whether he truly was through the mask. “So, I’m extremely curious to see if they’re right about you, to see if fucking you is just as amazing as your gorgeous body makes me think it is.”

_Breathe, Danny. Don’t punch him in the face._

“So, my proposition is for you to give me a nice show tonight.” Funny’s hand abandoned the drawstrings on Danny’s sweatpants, and began traveling up his stomach, tracing over his abs with careful movements. “Show me a side of you the other guys haven’t seen, and I can give you something in return.”   
“What is this something?” Danny murmured, watching as the masked man’s hand kept moving higher and higher up his torso.

Funny chuckled. “A shower, plain and simple. A nice, long, hot shower, all for you. I know you haven’t been cleaned since you got here. I wouldn’t even be there with you; I’d be right outside the door, making sure you didn’t get interrupted.”

Danny clenched his jaw; he hated how he already knew that he would agree to the deal. He felt fucking disgusting, in every sense of the word. He hadn’t been given a chance to be clean in two weeks, after five men having their way with him. Every inch of him was filthy; he wanted a shower almost as much as he wanted his freedom. Almost.

“What’s your answer, Danny?” Funny’s hand dropped back down to the edge of Danny’s sweatpants, playing with the top of them.

“Yes.”   
“Yes what? Use your words.”

Danny withheld a sigh. “I agree to your deal.”

Funny tilted his head to the side. “What do you want?”

“I want a shower.”

“No, no, no.” Funny shook his head, and stood up from the bed.

Danny had forgotten how tall he was; he had to tilt his head up to look into where he thought the masked man’s eyes would be.

“ _Who_ do you want?” Funny asked, placing his hands on Danny’s shoulders.

Danny licked his lips, and let out a minute sigh. “I want _you_ ,” He muttered, detesting the way the words felt on his tongue. They were heavy, and shameful; Danny hated when his words felt that way.

Without a word, Funny swiveled Danny around so he could push him onto the bed. Danny landed with a grunt – everything still hurt, thanks for caring – and Funny was quick to pin him down by straddling his hips.

“I hope you’re willing to keep your end of the bargain,” Funny said, reaching his hands up to pull off his mask. Once it was off, he tossed it aside where it landed somewhere among the piles and piles of dirty clothes.

“I am,” Danny replied, taking in Funny’s face.

His face was kinda chubby, with short, curly black hair, and brown eyes. He was almost handsome, if he wasn’t a murdering, drug-peddling rapist. Typical with these men; almost attractive, but their personalities obliterated their looks.

Funny leaned down, caging Danny in with his tattooed arms. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

In the end, Danny did hold up his end of the deal, and was now sitting in the shower; he had given up on trying to actually get clean. All he wanted to do was just start crying and never stop.

The water felt so damn nice, even though it was too hot. Steam had quickly filled the small bathroom, to the point where Danny could barely see the far wall.

His skin burned in that weird tingly way, but he didn’t want to turn down the temperature. Hopefully, if it was hot enough, the water would burn all the skin cells that had been touched by the six men.

Danny never had a problem with selling his body out before, but now, he felt abhorred of his actions. He had actively tried to give something to Funny; he just wanted a shower so badly. And now that he had it, all he wanted to do was drown.

But he couldn’t keep thinking like that. He needed to stay strong, so that he could survive this and walk free someday. And it would start here, in the this shower.

It didn’t matter that he had hated every fiber of his own being for what he had given to these masked criminals. That was the past, and all that mattered now was the future. He had to keep moving on, and he would start moving on by being fucking clean.

Danny slowly got to work actually cleaning himself. These six men apparently didn’t know how to take care of themselves – all that was in the shower was a rag and two bottles of shampoo. No actual soap, or conditioner, or anything else.

But shampoo would be enough. Danny grabbed it and the rag, and scrubbed himself down as hard as he could, ignoring the growing pain. Once that was done, he did it again, and a third time, until his skin was screaming red and painful, then he washed his hair.

Once all the suds carried the dirt and blood and whatever else down the drain did Danny finally shut off the water. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but definitely over twenty minutes, which was the normal “long shower” time he had taken in his old life.

Damn, those words still hurt. His old life. A glamorous life, at least compared to how he lived now.

Danny shook his head in his effort to get rid of that train of thought. He couldn’t linger on the past, not now.

Danny saw a folded towel and a pile of clothes sitting on the sink, along with a little note that had wrinkled in the steam.

_Fresh pants and a clean towel for the angel_

_\- FM_

Danny knocked the note onto the floor with a scoff, and picked up the towel. It was a high quality, and insanely soft. Heavenly. Danny was gentle in drying the water from his tomato-red skin, not wanting to increase the stinging pain.

The sweatpants were red this time, almost like a blood type red. Danny grinned a little to himself; he knew he looked good in red, and wouldn’t mind being able to feel nice about how he looked for once. However, the grin fell as soon as he realized why he was given red pants in the first place.

In his old life, Danny used to be able to radiate confidence, and swim in it, but now… he just felt insignificant and pitiful. A nice pair of pants in the color he knew he looked good in wouldn’t change that.

And again, still no socks. Nothing to keep his defenseless feet safe from the floors that might as well have been made of ice.

Maybe that would be a reward one of these days. Blow one of the men, and get a pair of socks. Or maybe not.

Once he was dressed and ready to face whatever might happen, Danny cracked the bathroom door open and peeked his head out.

Funnyman had kept his promise, and had stayed right outside the door the entire time. He perked up when the door was opened, and jumped up when Danny exited the bathroom.

“Feel better?” Funny asked, eyeing him down with a smirk.

Danny just nodded, and forced the tiniest of smiles as a thanks.

“Use your words, angel.”

Danny cleared his throat. “Yes, I feel better.”

“Come on, where are your manners? What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

Funny either couldn’t discern the anger underlining those two words, or didn’t care. Most likely the latter. He smiled, and gave Danny a look that was somehow proud yet condescending. “You’re welcome. You can go back to your room for the night.”

“Okay.” Danny turned to leave, then stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“See you tomorrow night, angel.” Funny murmured, his voice low and promising all sorts of pain and suffering. He let his hand drop, and fall to his side.

Danny didn’t say anything, just started walking and didn’t look back. He didn’t want to think about the next night, or what would happen after that, or anything else besides getting to the closest thing to a safe space that he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have had a bit of fun with all the nicknames for Danny. What can I say? They're fun.   
> If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment, it really helps!


	4. A Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a look at how Deuce runs the Undead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter isn't well written, I struggled with writing it. I would work more on it, but I don't want to look at it anymore, so I'm posting it.  
> Please enjoy!

Danny took a deep breath, then knocked on the door to the boss’ room. He hadn’t been here in over a week, and now, looking at the door sent shudders down his spine. It didn’t help that it was Kurlzz who wordlessly escorted him here.

“Come in,” A nasally voice called out.

Danny slowly pushed the door open, ignoring the dread pooling in his stomach. Deuce’s room was still a mess, as expected. Not a lot really changed here, apparently.

“Hey, you,” Deuce greeted. He was sitting on his bed, with his back to the wall and his legs stretched to the edge.

Jay was there too, laying on his back to the left of the boss. Danny found the two of them being so close weird, but he didn’t say anything about it. He hadn’t really seen how the men interact with each other, so he couldn’t say anything about their relationships with each other.

“Sit down,” Deuce ordered, patting the empty space on his right.

Danny silently crossed the room. He felt the men’s gazes on him, watching as he navigated around the piles of clothes and papers and trash to get to the bed. He felt as if he were being stared at by a thousand people instead of just two. The urge to just say fuck it and bolt was almost overwhelming.

Once he made it to the bed, he just sat on the edge, attempting to keep far away from the both of them.

Deuce just groaned, and reached out to grab Danny’s arm. “Come here, you idiot.”

Danny let himself be pulled up onto the bed. He had no idea what the boss wanted from him, so he just let Deuce mold him into whatever position he wanted.

After a decent amount of adjusting, and a few strings of curses from Deuce’s end, Danny ended up laying on his back, his legs at a weird angle, and his head on the boss’ lap. Despite how much he hated Deuce, he couldn’t deny how nice it was to lay on a real bed, in a somewhat comfortable position.

“So,” Deuce began, carding his finger’s through Danny’s hair. “You’ve been with all of us now.”

“I have.” Danny tried to look anywhere except Jay, who was still laying on the other side of the boss.

Jay had his eyes closed, and was lying with his arms behind his head. Danny knew that he was listening, which felt worse than if he were just eavesdropping from the hallway or something. Danny didn’t know if he were supposed to care that this “private” conversation with the boss was being listened to by his subordinate.

“Do you have a favorite?” Deuce asked, sounding like a child spreading secrets.

At this, Jay opened his eyes and turned to look at Danny. He gave the blonde a side-eyed look, sending him a silent warning with of a flick of his eyes up to the boss.

Danny looked away from Jay, instead choosing to focus on the far wall. “Not really.” It wasn’t a lie, considering he loathed all of the men more than he ever thought was possible.

“Come on,” Deuce groaned. He tightened his hand in Danny’s hair, and forced him to meet his intense gaze. “You have to have a favorite.”

Danny looked to Jay, who just smirked and cocked an eyebrow.

“I… you.” Danny hated how his throat dried up. He clenched his jaw, and shut his eyes. He wanted to throw up, or maybe punch someone.

“Me?” Deuce asked, attempting to sound surprised and failing. He was expecting that answer, and was all too pleased to receive it. He let go of Danny’s hair, and leaned his head back against the wall. Danny could breath a little easier.

Jay scoffed, but quickly covered it up with a cough. Deuce didn’t seem to notice, or seem to care.

“Great!” Deuce chirped, twirling Danny’s hair around his skinny fingers. “So, now, you’ve gonna start doing chores and shit around the house. Same schedule with the guys every night, but you’ll be doing shit during the day.”

“Like cleaning?” Danny brought his hand up onto Deuce’s thigh in his efforts to get more comfortable in this extremely off-putting situation.

“And whatever other menial labor type shit we need you to do. Simple things none of us want to do.” Deuce turned to the other man who was still there, and tilted his head. “Tell him what what’s happening tomorrow.”

Jay grunted, and sat up on his elbows so he could get a better look at the blonde. “You’re gonna get to know a little bit about us, as a group.”

“Doesn’t that sound like fun?” Deuce asked, smiling an overly cheerful smile that showed some of his horse-like teeth.

Danny nodded. “Sure.”

Deuce smacked Jay’s chest, and then pointed to the door. “Out. Tonight’s still my night with him.”

Jay clicked his tongue, and stood up from the bed with an over-dramatic flourish. “Goodnight, my liege,” He said, voice with heavy with sarcasm as he gave a bow before leaving the room, carefully shutting the door behind him.

Deuce smirked, and looked back to Danny. “Now, let’s have some real fun.”

 

Aron waited until he was certain that Danny had gone back to his room in the basement, then went down to the kitchen. Jorel was there, as was George and Matthew.

“Hey.” George raised his beer can as a greeting to the boss.

Aron nodded at the three of them. “Are we still gonna have that meeting? We haven’t talked as a group since our newest slave got here.”

Matthew chugged the rest of his beer, then threw the can into the sink with a loud burp. “I’ll round up tweedle dee and tweedle dumbass.”

“Wait, which is which?” Jorel asked, watching as the curly-haired man left the kitchen.

George shrugged, and looked at the crumpled beer can in the sink with distaste. Trash belongs in the trash can, not the sink. “I think tweedle dumbass is Dyl, but it could be either of them.”

Aron nodded. “They’re both idiots in their own ways, but it doesn’t fucking matter. Let’s go.” He swiveled on his heel, and stalked off towards the official conference room – the living room.

It was a decent size room, with doorways in three walls, and a fireplace on the fourth. Three large couches surrounded a coffee table. They had a television above the fireplace, but they rarely used it. Often too busy to just sit and watch crappy reality shows.

Aron headed right for the couch in the middle, and sat down. Jorel sat on the same couch on the boss’ right side, and George sat on the couch to the boss’ left. Barely a moment later, Matthew showed up with Dylan and Jordon trailing behind them.

Matthew sat beside George, while the other two took up the last couch.

“What if Danny hears us?” Jorel asked, looking back to the stairwell that led to the basement. His eyebrows furrowed with concern, and his leg began bouncing up and down.

“What would happen?” Jordon fired back, spreading out on the couch. “He can’t do shit.”

Aron cleared his throat, and scooted forward. Once he was sure all five pairs of eyes were looking at him, he gave everyone a smile. “I actually want to talk about Danny first. What’re your guys’ thoughts on our newest toy?”

“He’s perfect,” Dylan immediately said. He wasn’t even ashamed at the speed of his answer, or the amount of conviction he spoke with. “We have to keep him.”

George chuckled, and raised an eyebrow at the boss. “Sounds like someone’s falling in love with the gang bitch.”

“I’m not” Dylan protested. Jordon started giggling and failing to hide it, earning him a petty slap to his arm. “He’s just hot!”  
“He really is,” Matthew endorsed, tugging on a lock of his curly hair.

“Couldn’t have picked a better whore,” Jorel said, his face as void of emotion as his voice.

Aron knew why Jorel was so dispassionate about Daniel, but he chose to ignore it for the purposes of this meeting.

Dylan sat forward in his seat, and glared at George. “What about you, butterfly boy? What do you think about him?”

“I think he’s a great fuck, and that he serves his purpose quite well,” George said, putting on a more diplomatic tone as he spoke with a smirk.

“So,” Aron barked. “All in favor of keeping him for as long as we can?” He raised his hand, as did the other five men. “Perfect. Now, onto other matters.” He turned to Matthew, and put on a serious expression. “Have you had any luck tracking that asshole down?”

“I told you, I’m working on it.” Matthew scowled, and tapped his fingers against the couch. “I’ll find him, just give me time.”

“I’ve given you plenty-”

“Ok, well I need more!”

Aron squared his jaw, and glared at the curly-haired man. Dylan hide his face in his shirt, while the other three men tried to look anywhere except the right in front of them. No one interrupted the boss, and expected to walk away with their dignity intact.

“You want to try that again?” Aron asked politely, weaving his fingers together in his lap.

All the men knew that when the boss talked like that, shit was about to the go down if it didn’t get resolved. George elbowed Matthew hard in the ribs, just to reiterate that point.

Matthew took a deep breath, then met the boss’ gaze. “I would like to place a request for more time to track him down. He has proven to be very elusive, but I am getting close.” His voice was cordial, as if they were discussing a friendly business deal instead of tracking down a fugitive.

“Your request is granted.” Aron spread his arms, and smiled wide. “See how easy that was? How nice it is when you talk to me with some respect?”

“Yes.”

“Are you gonna interrupt me again?”

“No.”

“Great.” Aron turned to face the two men on the other couch. All of his previous anger was wiped away, and a serious demeanor replaced it. “Why aren’t your numbers as high as usual?”

Dylan and Jordon both sat up, elbowing each other as they tried to make the other one answer first. Jordon tried to meet the boss’ gaze, but everyone could see his anxiety building. Dylan kept nudging him, still hiding his face in his shirt.

Aron huffed, and clapped his long hands together, effectively stilling the entire room. “Jordon, answer me.”

“W-we don’t know, we’ve been selling at our normal place, but less people have been buying,” Jordon attempted a small smile, but the boss’ glare quickly wiped it away.

“And how long have your numbers been low?” Aron’s tone revealed that he knew the answer, but wanted the two men under question to say it. “Dylan, answer me.”

Dylan peeked up from his shirt, but didn’t look at the boss. “I don’t know, like maybe a week?”  
Aron scoffed, and crossed his arms. “A month! A fucking month, and you haven’t even noticed!”  
The five other men all flinched at the boss’ sudden shouting, but no one said anything. George closed his eyes, while Matthew became suddenly very interested with his fingernails. Jorel just scooted closer to the boss, while Jordon and Dylan looked like they wanted the floor to swallow them and send them to hell.

Aron stood up, and suddenly, his scrawny figure seemed to be the most daunting thing to ever exist. “Was I wrong to give you two that job? Was I stupid to think that you two could handle some simple selling of our shit?”

“No, you weren’t stupid,” Dylan murmured.

“Look at me. Both of you.”  
They looked up with tense motions. Dylan’s shirt was still hiding his mouth.

“I don’t want to demote you two,” Aron said in a softer voice. “But you have to step the fuck up. We can’t have these numbers as low as they are, or we’ll lose money on this. Find out why you guys aren’t selling as much, and fix it. If I see improvements within a week, I won’t punish you two.”

Jordon and Dylan visibly deflated with relief as they sunk into the couch. They would live to see another day. At least for the next week.

“Thank you,” Jordon breathed, giving a light chuckle as the boss sat back down.

Aron nodded, a business-like smile spreading across his face. “You’re welcome. Are there any other matters that we need to attend to?”  
His question was met with silence, and few men shook their head no.

“This meeting is dismissed then.” Aron stood up, and hurried out of the living room with long, robotic strides.

None of the five men moved yet. They all listened to the boss stomp up the stairs, and slam the door shut to his room.

“Fuck,” Dylan muttered, bending over so that his stomach was pressed to his thighs, and his head was hanging over the edge of the couch.

Jordon placed his hand on Dylan’s back, and absentmindedly began rubbing little circles into the fabric of his shirt. “We’re in deep shit.”

“He was pissed,” Matthew said as if it weren’t the most obvious thing in the entire universe. “Like more than when we hid all of his sleeveless shirts.”

George let out a small laugh. “That was fuckin’ funny. His face was so damn red.”

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” Dylan asked, voice muffled from speaking into his legs. “We’re fucked, like hardcore fucked, like dry fucking after being a virgin for thirty years kind of fucked!”

“We’ll figure something out,” Jordon promised, though the frown on his face told a different story. “We’re resourceful, we’ll pick our numbers up.”

“Maybe it’s competition,” Jorel mused. He looked as if he were a million miles away, tapping his fingers against the arm of the couch. “Maybe the bitch Matty can’t find is picking up our business.”

“You better find him,” George warned the curly-haired man. “If you don’t, shit’s gonna hit the fan. And none of us are gonna live through it.”  
“Gee thanks,” Mathew said. “No pressure or anything, right?”

George shrugged. “I can help, if you need it. I’ve managed to snag some free time lately.”

Matthew blinked. “How?”

“Can’t sleep, and my job doesn’t take too long.” George stretched, and groaned as his back popped several times.

“Damn, dude, you should go see chiropractor or some shit,” Jorel said, holding in a laugh at Jordon’s obvious grossed out look.

“Or get a new a spine,” Jordon muttered.

George huffed, and waved their words off with a tattooed hand. “I’m fine, you’re all just a bunch of pussies.”

“Or you’re just old,” Matthew joked.

George clicked his tongue, and gave the curly-haired man a deadpan look. “Ha ha. This meeting was dismissed, assholes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, please leave a comment! They go a long way!


	5. Two Days with Jay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of Danny's job and some interesting conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy!

It was the first time that Danny was being allowed to walk anywhere on his own. Charlie had told him to head on up to Jay’s room solo. Of course, not without a not-so-subtle threat that if he went anywhere other than where he was supposed to go, he would lose a finger or two.

Danny let out a quiet string of curses as he trudged up the stair well. Stupid cold ass floors making his fucking feet go numb. Why couldn’t he be given a pair of socks, or something? Anything to ward of Jack Frost’s apparent foot fetish that kept attacking his feet.

All too soon, Danny reached the bedroom door. Tonight was the night he would supposedly learn about the men in the gang, as a group. He didn’t know how he felt about that; at the very least, he wasn’t excited about it.

Although, maybe it would be nice to get to the know the men who were raping him on a nightly basis. On second thought, perhaps it wouldn’t. Either way, he didn’t have the option to back down.

He knocked on the door, and was immediately given the all clear to enter.

Danny withheld a groan as he saw how fucking filthy Jay’s room still was, and probably always would be.

Jay was sitting at his desk, back to Danny as he scribbled away on several pages of a worn looking notebook.

“Sit on my bed,” Jay ordered, not bothering to look up from his work. “I gotta finish this up.”

“Take your time,” Danny muttered, carefully making his way to the bed in the far corner. He sat down on the soft sheets, and let out a sigh as his hand found the fluffy brown blanket Jay had.

Deciding that he didn’t care about possible repercussions, Danny brought his legs up onto the bed, and folded them like a child. He drew the blanket over his lap, thoroughly covering his frigid legs with the fluffy material. It was so damn soft compared to the mattress he got to call his own. He fought the urge to just burrow completely underneath it.

Who knew a simple blanket could feel so nice?

After several minutes of silence, Danny’s curiosity began to build. He wanted to know what Jay was working on so feverishly, but at the same time, he had no idea what could happen if he asked. So he didn’t.

Danny went back to observing small details about Jay’s room. Mainly just how disgusting it was.

The only interesting thing in the room was Jay’s white mask, hanging off the corner of the wardrobe. Right next to five or six empty liquor bottles, of course.

“Your room is fucking filthy,” Danny commented before he could stop himself. He immediately tensed up, hoping against everything that his words had gone unheard.

No such luck. Jay just chuckled and nodded, still not looking away from his notepad. “Yeah, it is.”

The room grew quiet once again. Not silent – Jay’s pen on the paper permeated throughout the air – but Danny found that recently, he quite hated silence. His thoughts would always get too loud, and made his head hurt. No, silence wasn’t a good thing anymore.

After another few minutes, Jay finally finished his work. He threw his pen onto the desk, and let out a victorious sigh as he stretched his arms above his head. He laughed when his shoulders popped in three different places.

A thousand questions flew through Danny’s mind as to why a person would laugh at their own shoulders cracking, but he knew he would never get an answer to them, so he just pushed them away.

Jay swiveled around in his desk chair, facing Danny as he rested his hands on his knees. “So,” He began loudly. “How you holdin’ up, kitten?”

Danny clenched his jaw at the petname, and resolved to remain silent. He didn’t look away from the dark-haired man, and brought the blanket closer to his body.

“Really?” Jay rolled his eyes. “The silent treatment?”

“What do you want me to say?” Bitterness seeped into his voice, somewhat against Danny’s will. “How did you put it? I’m a sex doll for six horny gangsters? Living the fucking life?”

Jay groaned, and held his hand in the air. “Let’s put a pin in that, ok?”

Jay’s tone didn’t leave any room for argument, so Danny just nodded.

“Do you remember what’s gonna happen tonight?”

“Deuce said I’m gonna learn about you all as a group.”

Jay nodded, letting a small, proud smile spread across his normally expressionless face. It would’ve been cute, if he weren’t a completely awful human being.

“There ain’t a lot to tell,” Jay started, leaning back in his chair and looking up to the ceiling. “Deuce, me, and Jeff started our organization a long ass time ago. The others joined up afterwards; we’ve all been friends since we were kids, going to the same schools and hanging out at the same places and shit.

Now, here the fuck we are.” Jay spun himself around in his chair, holding his arms up in the air as he spun.

Danny hummed in response, unsure of what exactly to say about all this information.

“Any questions?” Jay asked, focusing once more on the blonde on his bed.

Danny thought for a moment, then nodded very slowly. “When… when did my position become a thing for you people?”

“’You people’?” Jay parroted, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He just shook his head, and let it drop. “Whatever. It started with Jeff – we told you about Jeff – started with Jeff, and him being a massive horn dog. I mean, he would fuck anything anywhere at anytime. As a test once, I wanted to see if he would fuck me right after we killed some guy. He did, and I think the blood made it even hotter, honestly.”

Danny grimaced, wondering if all these men were just insane. Seriously, he knew to some degree they were, but fucking after you killed someone? That was just unclassy. And gross. And just… ew.

“So yeah, he was our first, I guess you would say. Some shit went down with people dating within the gang, so Deuce banned all relationships.”

Maybe Danny was going crazy, but he sensed some growing bitterness in Jay’s voice as he spoke. Why would he sound upset about no more relationships?

“Jeff became our fuckbuddy, but then his dumbass got killed. We told you how that happened, it was fucking epic, but then we needed someone to replace him. Having someone to always rely on for sex helps all of us. Increased productivity or some shit, I can’t remember how Deuce put it. So we found replacements.”

“Poor hookers you kidnapped from the streets?” Danny seethed, clenching his fists around the blanket still in his lap.

“Yep,” Jay said, popping the ‘p’ with a smirk. “We all took turns finding one. You were Funny’s turn, as he’s probably mentioned like a million fucking times. He’s bragged so damn much about you, and considering how you’re probably the best one we’ve had in a long ass time, I hate to admit that he’s right.”

“Thanks...” Danny murmured, looking anywhere but the man in the chair in front of him. “I have one more question.”

“Shoot.”

Danny hesitated, but decided to ask the one question that had been pressing down on his shoulders since the day he got here. “Will I ever get out of here?”

Jay just shrugged, looking genuinely pensive. “Probably not. Maybe you’ll do the impossible and somehow escape from us, but that’s never gonna happen. Of course, you might just die, like the others.”

Danny sharply inhaled, as his entire body tensed. Everything felt too cold, even with the blanket in his lap.

He knew that he could die here. That had been clear from the beginning. But somehow, hearing it from someone who wasn’t Deuce… he couldn’t handle it.

Danny felt a tear fall onto his hand, and just stared at it. Then, the damn broke. He started sobbing again, the kind of body-wracking, throat burning, energy sapping sobs that were the ugliest sounds he could ever make as a human being.

He didn’t notice Jay moving around him, not until he felt the bed dip down beside him. Danny feared a punishment, so he tried to silence his cries, but it just sounded like he was choking on something.

Jay wrapped his arms around Danny, securing him within a nice, warm hug.

“It’s okay, kitten,” Jay soothed, rubbing little patterns into the blonde man’s back. “Let it out, you won’t get yelled at.”

Danny wanted to shove him away, to scream at him for trying to comfort him, but he couldn’t do it. He hadn’t realized how damn desperate he was for this kind of physical contact that wasn’t driven by lust.

Jay’s arms were just so damn warm, and strong, and nice. Danny turned to bury his face into the crook of Jay’s neck, and let himself cry in the arms of a criminal. He cried until he tired himself out, leaving silent tears and the occasional hiccup in place of the sobs.

Jay still didn’t move, and even started petting Danny’s hair, as if he really were a kitten.

“I-is it gonna get any easier?” Danny croaked, lazily dragging his fingers along the tattoos on Jay’s arms.

“I dunno, I guess that depends on you. We ain’t gonna stop doing what – or who, in this case – we do. Not now. You just gotta learn to cope.”

“Anyone ever tell you you suck at motivational speeches?”

Jay chuckled. “Yeah, actually. They have. Wanna stay here tonight? I don’t wanna fuck, and I’m getting the sense that you don’t either.”

Danny’s eyes widened at the idea that he might actually be able to sleep in a real bed. Next to a man he detested. Was it worth it?

“Sure,” Danny said. “I’d like that.”

Jay released his arms from around Danny, and scooted backwards on his bed so that his back was against the headboard. He held his arms out, wiggling his fingers and raising his eyebrows. “Come here.”

Danny obliged, and let himself be pulled up by Jay, so that he was lying against his chest, wrapped securely in his strong arms. He could hear Jay’s heartbeat, soft and steady, unlike everything else in his shit storm of a life. He still detested the man, but goddamn he knew how to cuddle.

“Wanna stay here tomorrow night, or just go to Johnny?” Jay asked quietly, lightly running his finger up and down Danny’s upper arm.

“Am I ever gonna have this choice ever again?”

“Can’t say, man. Moods change, and you are still our bitch.”

Danny smiled, but he wasn’t sure why. “Then I guess I’ll stay here again.”

“Gotta warn you, I might want a blow job or some shit tomorrow.”  
Danny chuckled; he still couldn’t tell why he found that funny, but maybe he was just too exhausted to think clearly. “Thanks for the warning.”

For the first time in a long ass time, sleep seemed to come easily to Danny.

  


Danny was in the midst of attempting to replay an entire movie in his head when there was a knock on his door. He sat up, furrowing his brows in alarm; no one ever knocked on his door, they would just barge in.

“Come in?” Danny called out.

The door was swung open, and Jay entered the room. “Come on, kitten.”

Danny furrowed his brows, and attempted to look out the window he forgot didn’t exist. Something felt off about this visit. “What time is it?”

Jay shrugged. “Noonish, I think. Why?”

“Felt early.” Danny stood up, grateful to have been given the closest thing he could get to day off last night. He felt the tiniest bit better, enough that a simple action like standing up didn’t send sparks of pain all throughout his body.

“Yeah, it is. You’re gonna start working today.” Jay gestured for him to follow, then began to walk away.

Danny scrambled to keep up, and hissed as he almost tripped over his own feet. “I thought I was already working?”

“Chores and shit. The rest of your job, really.”

“Lovely.”

When they made it upstairs, Jay held the door to his bedroom open for Danny, then followed him in. “Remember how you said my room was gross?”

“Yeah.” Danny watched as the dark-haired man grabbed a notebook and pen off his desk.

“Well, today, you’re gonna clean it up.” Jay grinned, a cat-like smirk. He went over and sat down on his bed, leaning against the headboard and stretching his legs out.

“It’s gonna take like eight millennia to clean this room!” Danny eyed all of the mess around the room, furrowing his brows in disgust and concern.

“So be it. Do as much as you can today, and then you’ll resume it all next week. Trash bags are on my desk, and just out the clothes in a pile by the door.” Jay opened his notebook up, and began furiously scribbling.

Danny turned to the desk, and visibly deflated when he saw that he wasn’t given any gloves. “Do I have to do this?” He whined, barely able to withhold a constant grimace.

Jay rolled his eyes, but didn’t look up from his work. “Yes, kitten. Keep whining, and you won’t be fed tonight.”  
Well, that was good enough motivation. Danny got started, taking a trash bag from the desk and starting in that corner of the room. He figured he’d start by clearing all the empty liquor bottles.

Maybe these criminals did something nice and actually recycled. If they didn’t, they were wasting enough glass to supply a thousand churches. Danny always like those stained-glass mosaics. Such pretty colors.

After what was probably less than ten minutes, Danny decided he was horribly bored. The mess seemed to never end, and there was nothing to help him keep his focus. Usually, he would listen to music when he cleaned. Somehow, the sounds of glass clinking and Jay’s page flipping wasn’t enough to ward of the impending boredom.

Danny found it quite difficult to not just sit and read the labels on the liquor bottles he threw into the trash bag instead of actually throwing them away.

Some of the bottles even still had booze in them; enough that by now, he would probably be drunk. He wanted to drink it all so badly, but at the same time, he had no idea how long any of this shit had been sitting on the dirty ass floor. He didn’t want to risk getting sick from any disease that could be thriving in the carpet.

Danny tried to count how many bottles there were, just for shits and giggles, but lost count when the number reached past thirty. And he had barely gotten maybe – and that was a rough maybe – half the room.

“When the fuck was the last time you cleaned your room?” Danny asked, pausing his cleaning in order to glance at the man on the bed in despair. Would the punishment be worth not finishing the cleaning? Perhaps.

Jay shrugged, still keeping his eyes on his work. “Dunno. Few years, maybe?”

“A few years?” Danny asked, his eyes growing wide as he became more concerned. “That’s fucking disgusting!”

At that, Jay looked up with a smirk. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re cleaning it then, huh?”  
Danny sighed, and went back to collecting the bottles. “This is so many kinds of disgusting. I used to clean my apartment like once a month.”

“If you really want, you can clean my room once a month.”

“Not unless I have to.”

“Good idea. Oh, and by the way, I’m still gonna wanna fuck tonight, so don’t waste all your energy cleaning.”

“Fucking awesome. Cleaning and then sex. I’m worse than a housewife.” Danny inwardly grimaced as he threw away a beer bottle that had a very _very_ old lime wedge in it.

Jay chuckled at that, setting down his notebook as he brought his legs up closer to his body. “Housewives have kids, though, and you’re never having kids.”

Danny shrugged. “Never wanted kids.”

“Never wanted any, or never had the opportunity to have any?” Jay shifted around so he could lay down on his stomach; he rested his chin on his hands as he smiled at Danny. “Both.”

“Sure.”

“Why are you so talkative today?” Danny asked, hoping to deflect the conversation away from himself. He didn’t needed his past opened up, not right now.

Jorel shrugged, and began kicking his feet in the air, like a teenage girl in those old tv shows do. “Guess I’m just curious about you. I mean, I’ve been inside you and I don’t know all that much about you.”

Danny grimaced, but kept his gaze on the bottles still everywhere. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“So, kitten, did you grow up wanting to be a hooker?” Jay’s tone was inquisitive with a hint of condescension.

Danny couldn’t tell if the dark-haired man genuinely wanted to know; Jay’s face was always void of emotion. He might as well never bother with taking off his mask.

“Do I have to answer that?”

“Well, since you asked, yes. Yes, you do.”

Danny sighed, and shook his head. “No, I didn’t grow up wanting to sell my body.”  
“So, could you say that something in your life happened to make you choose that life?”

“Isn’t that always how it works?”

Jay hummed, and light smirked tugged at his lips. “So, what was your big Hollywood dream?”

Danny sharply inhaled, and tried to cover it up with a cough. “What makes you say that?”

Jay sat up, looking fully interested now and completely disregarding his work. “Why so defensive of all of a sudden?”

“I’m not defensive, and I didn’t have some Hollywood dream.” Danny clenched his hand on the neck of a whiskey bottle; he wanted to smash it against the wall, or maybe chuck it at the man sitting on the bed with a shit-eating grin.

“It’s not nice to lie, kitten.”

“I’m not lying.”

Jay scoot to the edge of the bed, keeping his gaze on Danny. “Did you wanna be an actor?”

“Why do you care?” Danny didn’t mean to sound so… well, defensive.

Jay just cocked his head. “Did you wanna be a singer?”

Danny coughed, and almost dropped the vodka bottle he held in his hand. “No.” He prided himself on keeping his voice steady, even if he couldn’t bare to look at the man currently interrogating him.

“Again, with the lies. Come on, just admit it: you wanted to be a singer. Why hide that?” Jay bothered to smile, and the worst part was that it was a warm and inviting smile. Almost a humanly smile one might give to their very close friends they were trying to coax a secret out of.

Danny finally looked at the dark-haired man, brows furrowed and blood boiling. “Because I don’t have to tell you about my past.” He couldn’t keep his growing anger from his voice; he just wanted this conversation to end, so he could finish cleaning and go back to his room.

“Are you any good?”

Danny wasn’t even given a chance to attempt an answer to that ridiculous question.

“Apparently not if you didn’t make it big, huh?” Jay’s smirk practically manifested itself into his tone. “Is that it? You weren’t good enough to make it big, so you gave up on your dream and became a hooker?”

Danny chose to keep his mouth shut, because if he tried to say something, he might start shouting. Who the fuck did this prick think he was, spelling his life story out like that? And how did he get it so accurate too? What the actual fuck was going on?

Jay seemed to pick up on his conflicted mood, and stood up to go over to Danny. He took Danny’s hands within his, and led him back over to the bed. They sat down together, and Danny made sure to keep a few inches of space between them.

“Don’t be so ashamed,” Jay said, running his thumb over the blonde’s knuckles. “Everyone has failed dreams.”

Danny didn’t know how to feel about this sudden contact. Sure, it felt nice to be comforted, but at the same time, his past was uncovered without his consent. A past that he had hoped he could’ve buried a long time ago.

“Does this everyone include you?” Danny asked, keeping his gaze on the floor. He had barely made a noticeable dent in cleaning, and he would much rather resume that instead of having this embarrassing conversation.

“It does, in fact. It includes all of us. We’re not so different, you know.”

Danny almost jumped up from the bed, holding his hands up in front of him and feverishly shaking his head. “We are not, _at all_ , alike. We all may have given up on our dreams, but _I_ didn’t become a drug-peddling, murdering rapist!”

Jay just smiled at Danny’s sudden outburst. It was almost like he was _proud_ for some sadistic reason. “You have a point, but at the same time, it’s not you exactly went the legal route either, selling your perfect body, so maybe you aren’t the one who should be playing Mr. Moral right now.”

“Still, we’re pretty different.” Danny picked the trash bag up, and tried his best to go back to cleaning.

“If you say so,” Jay said, also going back to his work.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Danny regretted his question as soon as he asked it. He had the perfect opportunity to shut down the conversation, and just finish his chores, but he apparently needed to keep talking to this fucking criminal. Why couldn’t he just stay silent when he really needed too?

Jay just hummed with a shrug. “I like to think that maybe if things had turned out differently, you could maybe have enough power to rival us. When I said that you’re not so different from us, I didn’t just mean our pasts.”  
Danny gave him a side glare as he picked up two more bottles. “Do I even want to know what that means?”  
“It just means personalities, Danny.” Goddamn that stupid fucking smirk that seemed permanently imprinted upon Jay’s lips.

“I refuse to believe that.”

“Fine, but delusion doesn’t suit you.”

Danny scoffed. “I think it’s fine. Can we either talk about anything else, or just be quiet?”

Jay thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “I have one more question!”

“Ok.”

“Cats or dogs?”  
“Dogs.” Danny didn’t even have to think about his answer as he went back to cleaning. He was so close to finishing with the empty bottles, and then he could move on to another endless type of trash. “Cats are demon-spawn.”

Jay huffed. “I like cats.”

“Then you like demon-spawn.” Danny shrugged. “I don’t make the rules, man. Cats will sell your soul if it meant they could get a treat.”

“I think you’ve been hanging around the wrong cats. They can be fuckin’ awesome and cuddly.” Jay’s smirk morphed into a more dreamlike smile. “I’ve tried getting a cat around here, just to have, but none of the others wanna take care of it.”

“Well yeah, cause you have to clean up their shit from a box. With a dog, you don’t have to do that.”

“You still have to clean up their shit, unless you wanna pay the city fines.”

“Not inside! With cats you need the whole shit box situation that’s _inside_ the house!”

Jay scoffed again, but this time, he also shook his head. “If you love the cat, then it wouldn’t matter.”

“Dogs are still better,” Danny maintained, tying up the now-full trash bag. “Always have been, always will be.”

“Fine, whatever. What breed?”  
“Bulldog.” Again, Danny’s answer was immediate. He’d thought the same question over multiple times with himself. A while ago, he vowed that if his life had ever settled down enough to allow it, he would get a small bulldog. He’d probably name it Louie.

Jay apparently did not agree with his answer, if his scrunched up face was anything to go by. “Aren’t those the dogs that have really wrinkled faces?”

“And loyal personalities,” Danny said with a roll of his eyes. “Looks aren’t everything.”

Jay burst out laughing, eventually having to clutch his stomach. Danny paused, raising his eyebrows in slight concern, unsure of what the actual fuck was so funny about what he said.

He just waited for the dark-haired man to stop his laughing – why was it a cute sound that he hadn’t heard before?

_Fucking hell, Danny, stop that!_

Eventually, Jay stopped laughing. He looked to Danny, with tears in his eyes, hiccuping a little bit. Jay noticed that Danny was confused as hell, and rolled his eyes.

“You seriously don’t know what’s funny about that?”

Danny just shook his head.

“You, a hooker, just said that looks aren’t everything.” Jay’s tone was incredulous as he gestured wildly to the blonde. “That’s awfully hypocritical, and kinda funny.”

Danny took a deep breath, and looked back to the floor. He could feel his blood starting to boil; his hand was clenching the trash bag hard enough that it might rip. He couldn’t tell where this sudden anger had come from, he just knew that it was there and he had to fucking deal with it unless he wanted to do something very, very stupid.

“Sure,” Danny muttered, taking care to not show the dark-haired man how upset he was.

“Come on, kitten, lighten up a little! You’re no fun when you’re like that.”

“My deepest apologies.” Danny tried to pour all of his anger into those three words, as a way of draining them from himself. It worked, but only a little. “I’ll try and gain my own psychotic sense of humor while I’m here.”

Jay huffed, then seemed to remember that he had actual work to do. He sat back up, leaned his back against the wall, and replaced the notebook on his lap. “You should. It’ll do you some good. Also, only another couple hours, and then we’ll fuck and then you can go back to your room.”

Danny nodded as those words replayed in his head like a mantra.

_Only a couple more hours. Only a couple more hours._

He tried to not reflect on how nice their debate about pets was until it had taken its turn for the worse. He tried not to think about nice it was to have an actual conversation, period. And he _definitely_ tried to not think about how nice Jay’s laugh was.

He also tried not to think about why exactly he got extra food that night either.


	6. Housewife-ing with Johnny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More chores with Johnny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay new chapter! I've been kinda busy with school and family shit lately, and haven't as much as time to write as I would prefer, so the next chapter or two might be a little late so I apologize in advance for that, but here's this chapter!  
> Please enjoy!

_Danny was walking_ _down_ _Sunset_ _Strip, whistling idly as he passed by an insane amount of people going the opposite direction. He couldn’t see their faces – they were all blurred beyond recognition. Not that Danny would’ve recognized any of them at al_ _l, considering he didn’t really know a whole lot of people._

_He didn’t know why he was the only person going the opposite direction of what seemed to be hundreds of people. He only felt proud of it. He was going against the crowd, and being himself. Being unique._

_Suddenly, within a single second, the crowd disappeared. Danny was left all alone on the now infinite street; the black ground stretched impossibly far in every direction, with no buildings in sight. The sky wasn’t blue anymore, it was gray, the kind of gray that seemed to be entirely void any kind of life. Danny didn’t feel comfortable looking at it._

_“You think you’re special.”_

_Danny turned around, but couldn’t identify where that voice had suddenly come from. It seemed to originate from all directions, which was impossible. It didn’t echo; it just filled the entirety of Danny’s mind, so he couldn’t even focus on formulating a response, he could only focus on just the voice._

_“You think you went against what society expects of you.”_

_Danny felt as if he should recognize the voice; it was horribly familiar, but he couldn’t place it to one specific source. It seemed to be a sort of variation of his own voice, but spoken as if he were upside down, or perhaps sick. It seemed to be coming from within himself, but at the same time from right on top of him, and from the sides, and even from the ground. The black, soulless ground._

_“_ _Babe.”_

_“Kitten.”_

_“Muffin.”_

_“Baby.”_

_“Angel.”_

_The names were called over and over, at a myriad of volumes, filling the universe with them. Danny clenched his hands over his ears in his attempt to block them out, but they were inside his head. They echoed now; each syllable bounced around his head, fading then returning with more intensity, more volume._

_“Babe.”_

_Danny tried holding his hands tighter over his ears._

_“Kitten.”_

_Danny shook his head, and curled in on himself, allowing himself to collapse onto the ground._

_“Muffin.”_

_Danny jerked himself back up._

_“Baby.”_

_Danny let himself scream as loud, as desperately, as he could to drown out the voices. It didn’t work._

_“Angel.”  
Danny started running, as fast as he could, to get as far away as he needed to. _

_It seemed to work; the voices were growing quieter, as if he were managing to leave them behind. He ran and ran and ran, unable to tell what direction he was going or if he were actually making any progress. The landscape was the exact same. He couldn’t tell if he was moving, or if it was moving._

_Danny slammed into an invisible force; his momentum sent him sprawling to the ground. It should’ve hurt, but he felt nothing. No pain, no tiredness from supposedly running, not even the previous panic from all the voices. They were still there, but had grown quiet, almost silent. Just whispers in his ears. They didn’t echo._

_Danny tried feeling around the wall of force – it had formed a box around him. He could still see the entirety of the endless road around him, but he couldn’t move out of this invisible box._

_“Danny.”_

_The voice was deep this time, and it was only one. It was still quiet, as if it were merely talking. Danny tried finding the voice, but again, it seemed to be coming from every direction around him._

_“Danny!”_

_Danny began turning more feverishly, growing desperate to find the voice. It was louder this time, and sounded angry._

_“DANNY!”_

Danny jerked up, almost slamming his head against the metal wall as he stood up in a panic. His heart pounded with enough force to rattle his chest; his breathing was shuddering as he forced himself to take deep breaths.

“Danny.”

Danny winced at the deep voice; he tried to push away flashbacks of his nightmare, in favor of looking at the intruder in his cell.

He should’ve recognized Johnny’s voice sooner; it was probably the deepest voice he’d ever heard.

Johnny was just staring at him with a disinterested gaze; his arms were crossed, and he was leaning against the doorway. His mask was gone; none of the men wore their masks around Danny anymore.

“You get nightmares often?” Johnny asked. His tone was gentle, yet empty.

Danny shrugged. “More often in the last month or so.”

Johnny nodded, then pushed himself off the door. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Danny followed the taller man out his room, and down the hallway.

“The kitchen, you gotta cook dinner tonight.”

Danny almost stopped in his tracks, but Johnny was walking too fast for him to stop unnoticed. “I’m cooking dinner, for six people?”

“Yup,” Johnny said. “We’ll eat pretty much anything, so it doesn’t have to be super fancy.”

The two of them made it to the what Danny guessed was the first floor of the building. Even after all this time, he still didn’t know the layout of this building. From what he could tell, the top two floors were where the six men lived, this floor was whatever the fuck it was, and the basement was where he lived.

This floor was just one long hallways, with several rooms leading off it. Johnny took him down to the very end, to a white door.

Johnny held open the door, a pleasant smile on his face. Danny ducked under his arm, and found himself in the kitchen.

It was surprisingly clean. Danny decided that it was the kind of kitchen that a middle class family of four would have. Nice tile floor, fake-marble counters, nice fridge – typical kitchen things.

“Make whatever you can,” Johnny told him, gesturing to the entire room. “I’ll be here.” He sat down on the floor, with his back to the wall, facing the rest of the kitchen.

Danny looked around, unable to express his discontent with this situation. He glanced at the other man, who had produced a notebook and pen from somewhere, and had began scribbling furiously.

“What if I had to use the bathroom?” Danny asked petulantly, placing his hands on his hips.

Johnny said nothing, just pointed another door in the corner.

Danny nodded, even though he wasn’t being looked at. “What the fuck kinda place is this?”

“A house. Where people live.”

Danny went around the kitchen, deciding to take inventory of the entire place first. He thought about what he had been eating – amazingly tasty food, if he were being honest.

“Which one of you cooked before?” Danny asked, searching the cabinets.

“Kurlzz usually cooks, but he’s got work up to his ass and then some. And we ran out of his leftovers, so we need you to cook.”

“There’s five of you, and yet you need me to cook? I’m no master chef, or anything like it.” Danny didn’t want to think about how many quick and cheap freezer meals he prepared for himself over the years. He wasn’t one to really attempt to cook himself elaborate meals when he’d be the only one eating them.

“Deuce has been-” Johnny cut himself off, and shook his head. “We’re all busy. Just cook, and then you can be off the hook.”

Danny raised his eyebrows and turned around. He didn’t want to let his hope build up, but he couldn’t help it. “Completely off the hook?”  
Johnny looked up with a smirk. “Nice try, but no.”

“Worth a shot.” Danny finished up checking all the cabinets. These people had barely anything to make a proper meal; it was almost deplorable, how little food they had. “When was the last time any of you went to the store? It looks like someone raided this place through and through.”

“It’s been a while. I might go tomorrow, depending on… things.”

Danny noticed there were two boxes of pasta and a jar of pasta sauce. Spaghetti it is. “What kinda things?”

“Undead things,” Johnny said, his tone indicating that no more questions were allowed.

“What kinda name is Undead anyways?” Danny asked, now searching for pots. “What about you guys makes you Undead? Voodoo?”

Johnny paused his work, glancing up with furrowed brows. “Voodoo?”

“You know, zombies and spirits and shit.” Danny shrugged, then smiled as he located the pots.

“Do you actually wanna know?”

Another shrug. “Is it super complicated?”

“You were almost one of the dead. Well, not almost, you _were_ dead.”

Danny stopped filling the pot with water so he could look to the man sitting on the floor. “I was never dead? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Johnny chuckled to himself, still not looking up from from his notebook. “We were all dead too, you know. You aren’t the only one. We just managed to… become _un_ dead.”

Danny refrained from flailing his arms around in frustration because apparently being Undead meant you liked to talk in dumbass riddles. “You are entirely too confusing to have a conversation with!”

“Not my fault I’m honestly not sure what I can tell you.”

Danny scoffed, but went also went back to filling the pot with water. “Big bad gangster can’t tell me what the group name means? What kinda dictatorship does Deuce have running?”

“It’s not a dictatorship,” Johnny snapped, louder than what was necessary. “We’ve just learned from past experiences with telling our _slaves_ too much information right away.”

Danny didn’t say anything back; he just licked his lips, and focused on cooking the food. He tried to ignore the biting nature of those words; much worse things have been said to him, but for whatever reason, those specific words just hurt a little bit more than they probably should’ve. Danny had been almost, but not quite, warming up to the idea that maybe these men were _completely_ just psychopaths; his almost-pleasant conversation with Jay had proved that there was still a human side to these criminals.

But Johnny reminded him that he didn’t have a spot with these men. There was no “friend” position for him to fit into. He really was just a slave, and the sooner he accepted that, the easier it would be for everyone.

There was a quick knock on the door, and then Charlie poked his head through. He nodded towards Johnny, then turned his attention to Danny.

“Yo, Deuce wants to know what the fuck you’re cooking.”

Danny gestured to the pot of boiling water and noodles. “Spaghetti, why?”

“Because if he doesn’t like whatever you’re cooking, he’d probably beat you and then order Chinese, but he likes spaghetti so you’re good.” With that, Charlie left, letting the door close gently behind him.

Johnny scoffed, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he stared at the door. “Forgot to mention that part.”

“You forgot to mention that if I didn’t cook to Deuce’s satisfaction, I’d get beaten?” The familiar wave of anger flooded over Danny, reminding him of why he shouldn’t ever give in to these criminals; they didn’t deserve it.

“What can I say, I’m a forgetful man.”

“Sure.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”  
Danny withheld any further comments, and went to making sure he didn’t overcook the noodles. He didn’t feel the need to continue talking, so he didn’t. He shut the fuck up, and cooked the rest of dinner. Once everything was finished, and the criminals were all served, Danny was just locked in the kitchen while they ate.

After what felt like for fucking ever, the criminals finished eating, and then Danny had to clean all the dishes. Once that was over, Johnny took him up to his room, had his way with him, then sent Danny to walk the agonizing walk of shame back to his cell.

Danny wasn’t alone for long before Johnny arrived at his cell with a bowl of food. It was just some of the leftover spaghetti, but it was warm food, so Danny wasn’t going to complain.

Johnny stayed as the blonde ate, leaning against the wall with a pensive look on his face.

“You know, you really are the whole package,” Johnny said after a while. A smirk was tugging at his lips, and his ice blue eyes glittered with something reminiscent of adoration. It was a weird look, if Danny was being honest.

“Thanks?”

“You’re a great fuck, and somehow, you made regular ass spaghetti taste pretty good. Jay was right, you’d be a good housewife.”

Danny almost bit his tongue at the mention of the other criminal. “Jay told you about our conversation?”

Johnny cocked an eyebrow, and tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t he? What you tell one of us, you tell all of us.”

“Good to know.” Danny wished he was told that earlier; then he would’ve tried harder to not say anything to Jay.

“Also, I feel like I should tell you that four of us also like dogs better.”

Danny smirked; dogs would always be better than cats. “Who’s the one other who likes cats then?”

“Me. They’re cute, and cuddly and shit. And whiskers.”

“Dogs have whiskers and they can be cuddly.”

“Cats don’t bark very loudly at random times during the night.”

“Cats also need a shit box inside the house.”

“They’re very quiet. I like quiet.”

Too many images of the time Danny had spent with Johnny in his room upstairs flooded his mind; it hadn’t even been an hour before now, when Danny had been forced to scream for his life. Johnny didn’t like quiet during those times, that’s for sure.

Danny purposefully bit his tongue to keep himself from spewing his thoughts. He covered it up by taking another bite of spaghetti, forcing himself to eat through the pain he caused himself.

Johnny was right about one thing; the spaghetti didn’t taste that bad for being made with sauce from a jar. It helped that Danny added some shit to it, like actual pepper and whatever dried herbs or spices these criminals had.

“Am I cooking again tomorrow?” Danny asked once he had finished eating.

“Yeah, and some of us are going to the store too. We’re gonna pick up a shit load of everything, so you’ll definitely be able to cook whatever. I think Kurlzz has a list of recipes that he cycles between, so you can pick some of them.”

Danny watched Johnny pick up the bowl, then head for the door. He stopped just before he reached it, and turned around.

“Be ready to start cooking earlier in the day, like noonish. We don’t know when Kurlzz is gonna be able to cook again.”

“Why does he have to cook in the first place?” Danny still knew very little about the man with the two-faced mask, and found himself curious.

Johnny shrugged, and honestly looked like he didn’t know the true answer. “Kurlzz likes to cook and it’s always been that way.” His blank face turned into a twisted smirk, and his eyes began to roam Danny’s body. “And I guess it helps that we’d all rather you save your energy for us, instead of wasting it on chores.”

Danny nodded. He should’ve expected an answer like that; he doesn’t know he never does. “Right.”

“See you tomorrow, lion.” Johnny winked, then left.

All Danny could do was stare after the taller man, even long after he had headed back upstairs.

“Lion?” Danny repeated, dumbfounded as to why he had suddenly earned this new pet-name. Did he remind the criminal of a very large cat? Was it his hair?

Danny shook his head, attempting to clear his mind of questions that would never be answered. Now that he had eaten, exhaustion had caught up with him. His shitty mattress seemed to be calling to his weary bones like a siren, and he was disinclined to fight against it.

Sleep didn’t come easily, but at least there weren’t any nightmares. Danny didn’t want to know why.

  


The next day was filled with cooking, true to Johnny’s words. Danny had been instructed to cook several different things, and freeze them to spread them out over the week. It was a nightmare of a day.

Danny had to start by putting away several hundred dollars’ worth of groceries that Johnny and Charlie had bought that morning. Then, he spent hours upon hours cooking several intense meals; Danny could barely cook an egg, so to say that he was stressed while cooking would be a huge fucking understatement.

Once he was finished cooking everything – whilst under Johnny’s supervision, of course – he then had to clean up the entire fucking kitchen, which took another hour. At the end of the night, Danny was all sorts of unhappy.

His feet hurt from standing all day, his hands were sore, and he was mentally drained from being stressed for so long. And he still had to go to Johnny’s room for his nightly rape. Johnny was keen to remind him that he would always cash in both nights.

Once Johnny had finished, all Danny wanted was to go to his cell and fall the fuck asleep. He was tired, in every sense of the word.

“Stay here a sec,” Johnny said, getting up from the bed and going over to his abandoned clothes on the floor.

Danny let out a careful sigh as he tried his best to relax back onto the bed; it was awfully soft, and warm. It was heavenly for his strained body. He watched as Johnny went over to his bookshelf that was packed full in the corner.

“Do you like to read?” Johnny asked.

Danny shrugged. “Never had a lot of time for it.” He tried to force away the biting nature of the unspoken meaning to his words. He didn’t like to think about the past, no matter how luxurious it was when compared to the present.

Johnny nodded, then crouched down to inspect the numerous novels on his bookshelf.

As his curiosity began to build, Danny sat up on the bed, ignoring the sparks of pain igniting throughout his body.

Johnny was lightly dragging his fingers along the spines of the books, head tilted as he searched for a specific title. He spent what seemed to be forever looking for a specific book; Danny began to grow bored from waiting so long.

After what was likely only a minute or so, Johnny pulled a rather large book of the shelf with a grin. He quickly thumbed through all the pages, then tossed the book to Danny.

“Shit!” Danny barely managed to catch the huge book to keep it from landing squarely on his face; the weight of the book sent shock waves up his already strained arms, amplifying his pain.

He examined the cover of the book that had been thrown at him. An assload of pages long, and very-well worn. The binding was almost crumbling, as if Johnny had read this book a hundred times. Maybe he had.

“Why?” Danny asked, looking back up.

Johnny had moved over to his desk, and sat down at his chair. “Something to keep you occupied when you aren’t with one of us. If you like it, we can talk about it too. None of the other oafs like to read like I do, and I know for a fact they would never give you anything to keep you from going insane with boredom.”

“Thanks, Danny said, uncertain of whether he would actually like the book. He didn’t really have a favorite genre or anything, but still. It was a nice thing to do, he supposed. It just conflicted his emotions a little bit more about the true nature of these criminals.

“You’re welcome. Now get the hell out of my room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea is Deuce actually likes spaghetti, but everybody likes spaghetti because spaghetti is amazing.  
> Also, you can decide what book Johnny gives to Danny, as long it's long as fuck. For me, I imagined House of Leaves, which if you haven't read it, is a pretty good book, I highly recommend.


	7. Kurlzz's Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny goes on up to Kurlzz's room for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short, and kinda heavy, and mainly a filler chapter. If I can get my shit together, then the plot should start picking up here soon. "Should" being the key word.

 

Danny passed the next day by reading the book that Johnny had given him. It was a nice change of pace from constantly trying to just sleep away his painful existence. 

After hours upon hours, Kurlzz finally walked through the metal door. His mask was resting on top of his curly hair, almost holding it down but not quite. Danny dog-eared the page he was on – he hoped Johnny wouldn’t mind – and stood up to greet the curly-haired man.

“What’s on the menu tonight?” Danny asked, pretending to hold little notebook and pen, like a waiter.

Kurlzz just rolled his eyes. “I need you to help me sort some shit up in my room. Then the usual.”

Danny perked up, not even bothering to hide his shock and even a little bit of excitement at going to this particular criminal’s room. “Really?”

“Yes. Now let’s go.” Kurlzz turned on his heel, and walked away at a brisk pace, leaving Danny to curse as he scrambled to keep up.

They made it upstairs quickly, and when they got to Kurlzz’s room, the curly-haired man practically shoved Danny into his bedroom, then slammed the door shut behind him.

“What the fuck?” Danny asked, regaining his balance with a glare. Pushing people was just rude.

“Shut up.” Kurlzz waved him off, then walked over to the other side of the room.

Danny took this time to examine his new environment; it was pretty much just like Johnny’s room; everything was very neat and organized, from the bed being made to the desk being clear. Kurlzz also had a bookshelf, but instead of books, it was filled with boxes, like a shit ton of boxes. They were about the size of shoe boxes, with labels on the lids; Kurlzz was currently sifting through about five different ones residing on the bottom shelf.

The one thing that caught Danny’s attention was the window on the far wall – it was uncovered. Without realizing what he was doing, Danny walked across the room to it, entirely focused on the view it provided.

The view wasn’t great – it was mostly just of another crumbling building next door, but there was a bit of the night sky revealed. There were actual, real-life stars shining in the sky; compared to where Danny lived now, they were the most beautiful things that he had ever seen.

Danny wasn’t one to really believe that the stars held some sort of meaning to life; he always brushed off those kinds of things, especially when it came to zodiac signs and the “meanings” attached to those. He always just saw stars as the giant balls of fire that they are, and moved on.

But now, standing in that room, staring at those stars, something stirred in Danny’s chest. He swore the stars were glittering with some sort of deeper meaning, as if they wanted to tell or maybe show him something. He felt a weird feeling of warmth spread from his chest all the way to his fingers and toes, almost like honey; Danny realized he was feeling hope, for the first time in a long time. Just from looking at the stars.

Maybe they weren’t just stars. They seemed to create a larger image; it was almost like they were map, maybe to freedom, maybe to heaven, maybe to some sort of happiness. Whatever they lead to, Danny wanted to just follow the stars for ages and ages, until he reached some higher destination, a place where he could be at peace.

“Danny.”

All at once, the warm feeling fled his body, leaving him disillusioned and disgusted with himself.

The stars weren’t maps. They weren’t able to lead Danny anywhere; they were just painful reminders that he was locked away from their meretricious beauty. They knew he couldn’t follow their light, but they shone it anyways. No, the stars weren’t maps, they were just open scars.

“Danny!”

“What?” Danny turned away from the window, unable to lift his gaze up from the carpeted floor.

Kurlzz held out a plain brown box, an expectant look in his icy blue eyes. “Take this, and put all the papers in chronological order. You can work on my bed, I have to… do shit at my desk.”

Danny nodded, and took the box. Kurlzz went over and sat down as his desk, where he took out a laptop and began typing away at it. Danny just stared at it; it was the first piece of actual technology he’d seen anyone in this entire building use. He didn’t know why he thought it was special, but it was; Danny had been half-convinced that Deuce was the kind of man to never touch any technology because of some bullshit conspiracy theory or something.

Kurlzz noticed his staring. “Get to work, muffin. If you get done soon enough, I might be able to take you to get a better view of the stars.”

“I- That’s okay,” Danny said, shaking his head and sitting down in the middle of the bed. “I’d rather just go to my room.”

“Cool.”

Danny took one last glance at the stars, but only felt shame when he looked upon the light-emitting balls of fire. He most certainly did not want a better view of them. He sat down on Kurlzz’s bed, and opened the box.

The box was just filled to the brim with pieces of notebook book, all written on in varying ways. Some were graphs, some were just covered in scribbles, some were lists. There were different types of handwriting, which Danny assumed was just from each criminal. Upon further inspection, each paper had a date in the corner, along with a title that was made up of abbreviations, so Danny had no way of knowing what all this shit meant.

“Don’t bother trying to read them,” Kurlzz said from his seat. He didn’t look up from his computer. “Just put them chronological order; you’ll just be here longer if you try and read every paper. I’ll also throw shit at you, because you don’t need to know what’s on them.”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Danny rolled his eyes. “Don’t read, just organize.”

“Exactly.”

And that’s just what Danny did. He wanted to organize these papers as quickly as possible. They were all from this year, starting in January and going up to last month. There seemed to be one for every day; it only made Danny more curious as to what was on them. His only theory was that these were maybe the papers ripped out of the notebooks he saw Jay and Johnny writing in, but that was just a waste of a notebook.

Throughout the entire time that Danny was organizing the papers, Kurlzz didn’t utter a single word. It was weird yet expected; weird, because all the other criminals were much more talkative, but expected because out of all the criminals, Kurlzz was the one whom Danny has had the least interaction with.

Danny had hoped that maybe he might be able to have a real conversation with Kurlzz, and perhaps learn a bit more about him, but apparently not. Once he had finished putting every single paper in chronological order, Kurlzz just wanted a blowjob, and then sent Danny down to his cell.

At least he now had a book to occupy his time with.

 

The next day, Kurlzz brought him up to his room again, although this time, Danny didn't have a job to do. Kurlzz allowed him to just lie on his bed, and read his book. Danny lied for hours while Kurlzz typed away at his laptop; neither spoke to each other, but instead just soaked in each other's presence. Danny ended wrapped up in two blankets, surrounded by four pillows.

For the first time since he’d been here, Danny felt at peace. Or at least the closest he had been since he had gotten to this hellhole. It was an interesting experience, considering Danny doubted that Deuce would be alright with him being treated like a human being instead of a slave.

He couldn’t help but wonder why exactly he was being treated so nicely. As much as he enjoyed it, Danny couldn’t help but feel that this was some sort of set up or bribery or something.

After a few hours or so, Danny decided that he had enough reading. His book was interesting, but he could only take so much sitting still. So he de-nested himself from the bed, and stood up to stretch. He noticed that Kurlzz was still just sitting at his desk, intensely focused on his laptop.

“What’cha doing?” Danny asked, stretching his arms above his head.

“Stuff,” Kurlzz replied, still typing away.

“What kinda stuff?”

“Personal stuff.”

“Is it actually personal or can you not tell me?”

“Sounds like you know the answer.”

“What do you do?” Danny looked around the room, looking for an answer to his question even though he knew he wouldn’t find it. This bedroom was spotless, in a way that made Danny almost ashamed of the way he had kept his own apartment clean. Almost. “What’s your job?”

Kurlzz shrugged, finally looking up from his laptop to meet Danny’s curious gaze. “I… human resources. That’s my job.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means what it means, muffin. Just let it go.”  
Danny shook his head. “That’s a terrible movie.”

“What?”

“Let it go? From Frozen?”

“What about it?” Kurlzz tilted his head, looking like a mere-cat.

Danny huffed, and flailed his hands around in frustration. “It was a terrible movie!”

Kurlzz just smirked. “Why’d you watch a kids’ movie anyways?”

Danny shrugged. “I was bored, and it was on Netflix. Sue me.”

“Still, there’s a shit load of other things to watch then a terrible movie meant for five year olds.”

“Sometimes I just get into a mood for a Disney movie, there’s no shame in that!”

“Never said there was,” Kurlzz raised his hands in mock surrender, trying and failing to conceal a smile.

Danny narrowed his eyes, but decided to let the issue drop. He didn’t need to debate how he lived – or used to live – his life. “So, Johnny tells me you like to cook?”

Kurlzz went back to typing away at his laptop with a noncommittal shrug. “Yeah, I guess. Always been a hobby of mine, or whatever you wanna call it. But I’ve been too busy lately. Deuce has been making my job very difficult.”

“Right. Deuce sounds like a delightful boss.” Danny didn’t bother to keep his own anger out of his voice.

“He’s a good person,” Kurlzz snapped. “He’s still my brother, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he is.”

“Brother?” Danny parroted, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re related to that thing?”

Kurlzz laughed a little, a raspy sort of sound, and shook his head. “Metaphorical brothers, Dan. Thank god I’m not related to him, he’s more fucked up than pretty much any other person on this planet.”

“How do you mean?”

“Nice try, but I ain’t talking. Ask him yourself.”

“Sure, let me just go up to him and ask ‘hey, why are you so fucked up?’, because I’d walk outta that conversation alive.”

Kurlzz chuckled again. “Not gonna lie, I would pay to see that go down. His face would go all red, it’d be fucking hilarious.”

Danny laughed a little bit too; it felt good to laugh again. Like really good.

Kurlzz finished typing on his laptop, if his hitting the mouse pad with a flourish and then shutting the top was anything to go by. He stood from his desk, then looked Danny in the eye. “Blow me, then you can go back to your room, okay?”

“At least say please,” Danny grumbled, walking over to the curly-haired man.

“Suck my dick. _Please_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after editing this for a while, I'm now craving muffins. Wonderful.


	8. It's a party! (p.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny's going to a party that he really doesn't want to go to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a multiple-part chapter mainly because it's gonna be long as hell. I haven't finished writing it, because for once, I'm trying to actually prep myself for end of the year exams, and that shit takes a lot of time and effort. So yeah, this chapter is gonna really long, so I'm splitting it up into parts so you guys don't have to wait like three weeks for one long-ass chapter. Not that you care. Or maybe you do, I don't know.  
> With all that said, please enjoy!

Danny stood in the shower, relishing the feeling of the hot water cascading over his sore and bruised body. Even though he cherished being able to get clean, he was worried about the underlying reason of why he needed to be clean.

It had started when Charlie had come to his room, and had told him to take a shower to get super clean. He didn’t say anything other than that, but there had to be some underlying reason for this. It’s not like Charlie would want Danny to shower before he had his way with him; something else must be happening when Danny would step out of the shower.

That fact made him never want to leave the warm water. It was such a stark contrast to his usual metal cell that he honestly had trouble believing that it could even exist in this building.

Eventually, Danny managed to clean himself and exit the shower. Upon his exit, he found several things were different than when he had entered the shower. First off, there was one of those black bag things that people store clothes in that they want to hang on a hanger. Like dry cleaning plastic covers, but completely black. Danny couldn’t remember if they had an actual name, but then he remembered that he didn’t actually care.

There was a note on the hanger, written in scratchy handwriting.

_Baby,_

_Get dressed, then come back to my room._

_-CS_

Danny already got an uneasy feeling from this, but he knew that he didn’t really have a choice in the matter,. He grabbed the towel on the counter, quickly dried himself off, then began inspecting the clothes left in the mysterious black bag.

As soon as Danny unzipped the bag, he let out a minute gasp: it was a suit. A fucking suit. Why did he have to put on a suit? What the fuck was happening?

And why was the suit so nice? It was just black trousers, a black dress shirt, and a maroon jacket, but there was one thing that excited Danny almost too much: there were socks! He had finally been given socks!

Too bad this wasn’t like an alternate reality where if he were given socks, he would be free from slavery. If this was, he would celebrate endlessly.

But it wasn’t, so Danny got dressed in the nice clothes. Once that was done – the socks were definitely the greatest part – Danny tried his best to make his still-wet hair look presentable, then he left the bathroom.

Danny opened the door to Charlie’s room, and withheld a groan when he saw Deuce sitting on the bed, with Charlie at his desk.

“Shit, you clean up nice,” Charlie said, devouring him with his icey-blue eyes. He was wearing his own suit, but with a maroon dress shirt and black jacket. Danny ignored the little voice in the back of his head who wanted to compliment the criminal on how well _he_ looked.

Even Deuce seemed impressed. “You two might just pull this off.”

“Pull what off?” Danny asked, flicking his gaze between the two men. “What the fuck is happening?”

“You’re going to a party, babe!” Deuce announced, standing up from the bed with his arms spread wide.

Danny’s jaw dropped, and his eyes grew wide. “What?”

“You and I are going to a party,” Charlie said with a devious smile. “Another organization, just call them the Thieves, are throwing it. They invited the Undead, and by that, I mean they invited me, because I’m the only one who isn’t on their ‘kill when you get bored’ list.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t tried to kill one of them.” Charlie looked at the boss as he spoke, pursing his lips in a knowing expression.

Deuce shrugged. “They called me a fag when we were trying to do business. Of course I’m gonna try and kill them.”

“Except you’re totally a fag-”

“Charlie, I swear to God.”

“But why do I have to go?” Danny asked loudly, unable to express in just how many ways he found the idea of going to a semi-fancy party with Charlie.

“Because, I need a date, baby. It’s weird to go to a party alone. Besides, we’re just gonna go and chat up the guests, you know? Maybe make some friends, maybe make some new enemies, gain any information we can, drink, dance, and just have a good time.” Charlie stood up, and picked up a black shoe box that had been sitting on his desk.

“It’s all political,” Deuce told him. “You’re just going to make impressions and shit.”

“Here,” Charlie handed him the box, now smiling in a way that reminded Danny of a very excited small child. “You need to fit in with the rest of us.”

Danny opened the box, and stared at the what it contained: it was a mask, or at least the top part of one – it cut off above the mouth. It was painted gold, with black splatter-paint, and a metal cross welded over the left eye. It was kind of gorgeous, if Danny was being honest. Shit, it was kind of _perfect_ for him, in a weird way.

“Johnny and I designed it,” Charlie said, a prideful undertone to his words. “You’re gonna fit right in with us.”

“Put it on,” Deuce ordered. “I need to see it all put together. You too, Charlie.”

Charlie helped Danny put on his new mask, and adjust the strap so that it sat perfectly. Then, Charlie put on his own bandanna and sunglasses, and the two of them let Deuce examine them.

“Good, good.” Deuce nodded, then turned to Danny. “Tonight, you aren’t to leave Charlie’s side, alright? And only drink what he gives you, and don’t eat anything. We can’t be too careful with these people, they tend to hold grudges.”

“Understandable, considering we’ve killed like three of them,” Charlie mumbled under his breath.

“Let’s go,” Deuce ushered the two of them out the room, and began leading them down the stairs. “We’ve got a party to attend.”

  


Normally, Danny liked to say that he was a pretty calm person. He didn’t have super bad anxiety or anything, even on his worst days.

But now, sitting in the car with blacked-out windows driven by Johnny, that was idling in front of a huge ass mansion up on a hill, Danny just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him, throwing him into eternal darkness. Anything that would save him from having to actually go to this party.

Deuce turned around from the passenger seat, giving the two of them another once-over. “You two know what to do?”

Charlie nodded. “Chat up the guests, and have a good time.”

“Danny? Do you know what to do?”

“Never leave Charlie, don’t drink what he doesn’t give me, and don’t eat anything.”

Deuce smiled, almost as if he were impressed, or maybe even proud. “Good. Now, get the fuck out.”

Charlie opened the car door for Danny, letting the blonde exit first, then getting out himself.

“Don’t die,” Johnny called out from the driver’s seat.

“You either,” Charlie replied, then closed the car door.

Danny watched the black car drive away, heading to wherever it was going. He then looked up to the night sky; the stars twinkled cynically at him. He looked away, instead focusing on the feeling of the fresh air in his lungs. It was more refreshing than anything else.

“Come on, baby.” Charlie held out his arm, like a gentleman.

Danny took it, and allowed himself to be led up to the mansion. And when he says a mansion, he means a huge fucking mansion, with warm light emitting from every room. Soft music was flowing from the mansion – it sounded like classical, but with a modern twinge.

“The Thieves are known to be quite classy,” Charlie said, noticing the blonde’s admiration of the building. “I’ll show you around it, if I have the chance.”

As soon as they entered the house, a servant dressed in typical black and white offered them champagne. Charlie took two glasses, then sipped carefully from both of them. He seemed to be pleased with them, then handed one to Danny.

“They’re clean,” Charlie said. “Probably.”

“Probably?” Danny took the champagne, but didn’t drink it. He just stared at it with distrust, as if it had personally wronged him in the past.

“I’m pretty good at tasting anything that shouldn’t be in drinks, and these taste fine.” Charlie took his arm again, and led him further into the house. “Just drink it, you have to look natural. You don’t have a good poker face.”

“I have a great poker face,” Danny scoffed. He noticed all the lavish decorations, and couldn’t help to stare at all of them: fancy light fixtures, beautiful rugs, paintings, photographs, and so many more rich-people things that Danny wished he could have.

“Not to these people, baby.” Charlie took him to a very open lounge-type room, where a very large clump of people were. There were very nice couches lining the walls, where some people were sitting and chatting, but the majority of people were standing in the center of the room.

“Charlie?” A woman called out from somewhere among the mass of bodies. A string of excuse me’s could be heard, then two women escaped the crowd and approached the two men.

One of the women, the taller one, had long hair that was dyed half white and half black. Her mask had a black and white checkered spiral that ended right between her eyes. She wore a black dress that ended mid-thigh, and pumps that had spikes along the heel part.

Those spikes concerned Danny; they looked as if they were sharpened, to the point where if she kicked someone, they would make anyone with trypophobia start freaking out.

Her companion had brown hair that fell in loose curls. Her mask looked like a painting of the ocean, with a million different shades of blue all swirling together; there were also gold streaks in random places. She wore a floor-length navy dress that had a deep v-neck.

“Charlie Scene, is that you?” The taller woman asked in a way that reminded Danny of the way a soccer mom would greet her best friend that she just called a bitch behind their back.

“The one and only!” Charlie let of Danny’s arm so he could give a hug to the two women. “Damn, Vanessa, it’s been a while. How’s your business doing?”

The taller woman, Vanessa apparently, almost bounced up and down in her own excitement. “We’re taking off! If this whole illegal thing falls through, I’m gonna be just fine!”

Asia scoffed. “It only falls through if you get caught, hun.”

Charlie turned to the shorter woman. “Asia, you’re looking great tonight.”

“You are too,” Asia said. “As is your date.” She winked at Danny, who smiled before remembering that they couldn’t see it.

“I’m Danny,” He offered his hand out, but apparently a handshake wasn’t how people greeted each other.

Asia gave him a gentle and quick hug, as did Vanessa.

“It’s great to meet you, Danny,” Asia said. “It’s nice to see Charlie hanging with a new face.”

“Where’d you find this one, Charles?” Vanessa asked, swirling around her drink that looked like whiskey.

Danny could so use some whiskey right now, instead of champagne. He still felt all kinds of uneasy and nervous, he just hoped he was hiding it alright. It didn’t help that he didn’t come up with some kind of backstory, but apparently, he didn’t need to.

“We met at our tattoo shop,” Charlie lied effortlessly. “He came in to get inked, and we started talking, and here we are.”

Charlie was so convincing that even Danny could believe that that was the truth of how they met.

“What did you get?” Vanessa asked.

“I was gonna get my chest touched up,” Danny told her. “But we never actually go to the inking part. Charlie was much more interesting.”

The two women awed at them, prompting Charlie to hold Danny’s hand.

_Fuck, his hand is soft,_ Danny thought.

Vanessa suddenly gasped, and covered her mouth with her free hand. “Charles P. Scene, don’t tell me you’re thinking of settling down!”

Charlie sheepishly shrugged, then looked to Danny. “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see, won’t we?”  
“Yes, we will.” Danny kind of wanted to throw up at how lovey-dovey Charlie was being. And so convincingly, too. This was weird.

Then, a servant came up to all of them, but looked to Charlie. “You need to follow me.”  
“Why?” Charlie tensed, no visibly, but Danny could feel it. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

“Mr. Theodore wants to see you.”

Charlie tightened his grip on Danny’s hand. “Alright. Come on, baby, guess we’re going on an adventure.”

“Only you, Mr. Scene.”

“I’m not leaving Danny. He comes with me, or I don’t go.”

Danny was almost touched by how threatening Charlie sounded about him not being left behind. Almost.

The servant seemed to sense Charlie’s adamancy about the subject. “Alright, just follow me.”

“Goodbye, ladies,” Charlie said, giving them a small bow. “We should go grab coffee sometime, and really catch up.”

Vanessa chuckled. “I might be stopping by your shop sometime, we can do it then.”

“Deal.” Charlie nodded to Danny, then allowed the servant to lead the two of them further into the house.

Danny tried to look around as they walked through some hallways and up some stairs, but he was very distracted by Charlie’s thumb rubbing little circles around his knuckles. Was he nervous? Was Charlie actually fucking nervous about this?

What the hell was happening?

Eventually, the servant led to what Danny could only guess was an office. He held the door open for the two masked men. Before they entered, Charlie leaned in way too close to Danny’s ear.

“Literally say nothing except your name,” Charlie harshly whispered. “This guy ain’t someone to fuck around with.”

Well, that didn’t help with Danny’s nerves. He tried to just breathe, because he couldn’t really do anything else to appease his anxiety about meeting some high-up Thief who could probably kill him with a single glare. Even Charlie’s nice soft hand holding his did nothing to calm him.

Then, they entered the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually don't know if Vanessa is taller than Asia, but to me, she seems like she would be. I'll try and get the next part of the chapter up within the next few days instead of waiting for next weekend, but it all depends on when I can get my ass in gear and actually write.


	9. It's a party (part.2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the party unfolds, and Danny has a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, the final part of the chapter is here! It took a while for me to write and figure out how I wanted everything to go but here it is!   
> After this chapter, I have no idea what happens next, so that's going to be interesting to find out.   
> So, with all that said, please enjoy this chapter!

The entire office radiated an aura of power and command. The walls were a dark blue, and covered in what were probably priceless paintings. There was a mahogany desk, very large and expensive, in the middle of the room. Sitting in a large leather chair was who Danny assumed to be this Mr. Theodore.

He was a large man, wearing his own mask that looked like a Gothic masquerade mask, all black and gold with lace and shit. It seemed kind of feminine, if Danny were being honest with himself. Not that he was one to judge.

“Charlie!” Mr. Theodore bellowed in a seemingly friendly manner. “Good to see you, I’m glad you could to make it to my little get-together! And with a new face?”

“I’m Danny,” The blonde man said, praising his voice for remaining even despite every instinct in his body screaming for him to run the hell away. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Theodore.”

“Please, call me Teddy,” He stood up, a wide smile on his face. “It’s nice to see Charles here with some new company. I don’t quite appreciate his current little brotherhood.”

“We feel just terrible about what happened,” Charlie said, stepping forward slightly, but not letting go of Danny’s hand. “Did you get the flowers we sent?”

Teddy huffed. “Did you send an entire florist’s shop? There were so many flowers, I felt like I was in the damn Garden of Eden.”

“Like I said, we feel terrible.”

Danny resisted to laugh – it was something he tended to do when he was nervous. Now, however, did not seem like an appropriate time to laugh.

“Listen, Charles, I like you, I really do, but flowers aren’t proper compensation for what your brotherhood has done to my own family. Flowers cannot make up for the loss of three good men, and prompted attacks on two others.” Teddy sat back down in his chair as if to emphasize his point somehow.

Charlie stilled, just barely. This was definitely not how tonight was supposed to go. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably just a few seconds, he finally spoke up. “How about a little peace offering, Teddy?”

At this, Teddy laughed. “Unless you’re going to offer me this fine young man you have hanging onto your hand, I’m not interested.”

“Danny is here as my boyfriend, not my business partner. He’s staying out of this,” Charlie damn near growled at the Thief. Danny could almost believe that he actually meant it.

“Then I have no interest in you.”

“Not even in the coast?”

Teddy narrowed his eyes at them. “How much?”

“Ten percent. Plus more flowers, for your fallen relatives.”

Teddy began drumming his fingers along his desk. “Percentages of business aren’t guarantees, Scene. You should know that.”

“It’s what we’re offering,” Charlie told him, straightening his posture and holding his head a little higher. “Take it or leave it.”

“Is it wise to speak to me that way, in my house?”

Danny silently screamed at Charlie to not challenge this man in his own fucking house; they did _not_ need to die tonight. Not here, at least.

“I’m just telling you how it is, Teddy. Ten percent of the coast, and more flowers. We had a few more shipments of them lined up.”

“Alright,” Teddy snapped. “I’ll take the deal, but leave the flowers out of it.”

Charlie tilted his head at the Thief. “There were going to be hydrangeas in the next shipment.”

Teddy sighed. “Fine. I’ll be expecting a call from Deuce before the week is out. Now, get out of my office, and enjoy the party.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Charlie said in an overly cheerful tone. He began all but pushing Danny out of the room.

Once the door was shut behind them, Danny immediately deflated. “I didn’t like that,” He said, unwilling to go back to the party so soon.

“Me either,” Charlie agreed. His grip on Danny’s hand had gotten much tighter, to the point where Danny was concerned. “I need some air, come on.” He whisked Danny away, down the hall, far away from the office and far away from the direction of the rest of the party.

Charlie walked into a seemingly random room, and headed straight for a glass door that led out onto a terrace. It was a large terrace, with room for a nice little table and two chairs.

“Sit down or whatever, I have to call Deuce.” Charlie let go of Danny’s hand, and began pacing furiously while taking out his phone.

Danny sat down on of the chairs, and listened to Charlie call Deuce. There was barely a few seconds of silence before Deuce picked up.

“You fucking prick, why didn’t you tell me we had business here!” Charlie half-shouted into the phone, flailing his free hand into the air as he continued to frantically pace.

Danny could only watch the conversation unfold, and hope that none of the other guests would be able to hear them. He also wished that some mind-altering substance would magically appear in front of him. He had abandoned his champagne somewhere, or maybe drank it all, but he couldn’t remember. All he knew was that sobriety fucking sucked right now.

“I gave him ten percent of the coast, you asswipe. Also more flowers.”

Danny wondered if Charlie always resorted to childish insults when he was angry.

“No, I’m not fucking sorry for calling you that! You could’ve told me we had business, and then maybe I wouldn’t have given him so much!”

Was it always like this for the Undead? Did Deuce always send his supposed brothers off to important events with no knowledge of their true purpose at said event? ‘Cause if so, that seemed like a terrible business policy.

“Good job, my fucking dick, Deuce! Save your stupid compliments, and just fucking tell me next time! I could’ve died, _Danny_ could’ve died!”

Danny felt a little touched that he was mentioned. He chose to ignore the little voice telling him that it was only because he was an investment to these people. The stupid little voice didn’t know what it was talking about.

“Johnny sometimes misses! Dammit, Deuce, you can’t keep pulling this shit!”

How did Johnny enter this conversation? What role did he play in all this bullshit?

Charlie finally stopped pacing, and lowered the phone from his ear. Danny thought he was going to put it on speaker phone, but Charlie only pulled it away from his ear because Deuce was yelling up a storm. Danny could hear that stupidly nasally voice from where he sat across the balcony.

Once it stopped, Charlie brought the phone back up to his ear. “I’m still not sorry, Deuce. I’ll see you later.” He hung up without another word, and let out a loud groan that was filled with every negative emotion known to man.

He shuffled over to the table, and sat across from Danny. He placed his elbows on the table, and leaned his head on his hands. “Fuck my ass.”

Danny didn’t say anything, mainly because how does someone reply to that without an innuendo? He just reached over and awkwardly pat Charlie’s hands. He removed his hands when Charlie began untying his bandanna, and set it on the table.

“I need a smoke.” Charlie reached into his jacket pocket, and brought out a pack of cigarettes. After taking one for himself, he offered the box to Danny. “Want one?”

Normally, Danny didn’t smoke. Mainly because it was an expensive habit to develop, and drinking was much easier. And more fun. But now, a cigarette seemed like a little slice of heaven, so he took one, and placed it between his lips.

Charlie leaned forward with a purple lighter, and carefully lit Danny’s cigarette. The blonde man ignored this sudden intimate moment, and pulled away as quickly as he could without being too weird. He took a drag, and let the nicotine do its thing.

Charlie did the same, and the two of them sat in silence, smoking and admiring the view. The mansion, being on top of a hill – cliché, right? - had an amazing view of the actual city of L.A., with all the lights glittering like fireflies or some other gay shit.

The music from the party could still be heard, and that plus the view, and also plus the feeling of fresh air surrounding him in a nice blanket, all made Danny feel… happy. He was fucking happy.

Of course, it was probably just caused from the stress of the situation he had been in not ten minutes ago, but for some reason, right now – sitting here with Charlie, sitting outside and smoking – it felt great.

But questions were still flooding his mind, and he figured now would be a good time to ask.

“Aren’t you gonna get in a lot of trouble with Deuce now?” Danny asked softly, so as not to disturb the quiet too much.

Charlie just nodded. “Yeah, but I’ll fucking take it. He can’t keep pulling this shit.”

“What about Johnny?”

“He had his rifle, and kept watch on the room.”

“You said he misses sometimes?”

“Not often. Maybe three times total. I mean, it’s a good thing he was watching us, but still, they could’ve killed you, and called it collateral or some bullshit.”

Again, Danny was touched by the genuine – or at least, he hoped was genuine – concern in Charlie’s voice.

Silence fell over the two of them again, the only sounds being the occasional inhale and exhale of smoke. Danny watched it float and dissipate into the night sky, wishing that he could do the same.

Once Charlie finished his cigarette, he put it out on the table and left the butt there. Then he turned to Danny. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. Tonight was honestly just supposed to be a fun party.”

Danny was caught entirely off-guard from that. He had never expected to be apologized too, considering these men never seemed to type to apologize and truly mean it. They seemed to always just go “that’s the way it is” and move on.

“T-Thanks,” Danny hated that he stuttered. He gave the other man a smile, even though it was just crooked corners of his mouth. “The night is still young, right? The party’s still going.” He put out his own cigarette on the table, and placed it next to Charlie’s discarded one.

“Yeah, but I don’t really feel like going back inside yet.” Charlie reached for another cigarette. “Another?”

Danny nodded. “Or maybe the entire pack.”

Once the two men had finished smoking, Charlie put his bandanna back on and they went back to the party, where they were immediately bombarded by Vanessa.

“There you two are!” Vanessa called out. She took Charlie’s arm, and dragged him over to some man with a black bandanna and sunglasses with a white rim. “This is Gadjet, he’s new in town.”

The rest of the night was exactly like Danny had thought it would be: meeting a ton of new people, none of whom he cared about. Small talk with person after person, with a limited amount of drinks – Charlie wouldn’t let him get drunk – and after several hours, Danny was ready to fight the next person who came up to them.

Charlie seemed to sense this, and led Danny over to one of the couches in the corner. They sat down on the comfortable furniture, giving their feet a rest for a little bit.

“Not much longer, baby,” Charlie said, rubbing little circles over Danny’s knuckles again, but this time, it was a motion of comfort, not of stress.

They hadn’t stopped holding hands the entire night, but Danny didn’t mind. It was nice, in a fucked up way that he didn’t feel like looking into.

“We’ve already talked to so many people,” Danny whined. “What time is it?”

“A little after midnight,” Charlie said, nodding at the large grandfather clock in the corner. “Only another hour or so.”

“That’s so long.”

“That’s what she said.”

Danny narrowed his eyes at Charlie, fighting the urge to smile. “Really?”

Charlie stood up from the couch, and offered his hand out like a gentleman. “Care to dance?”

Only now did Danny realize that the music had slowed way the fuck down, and people had broken into pairs to dance in the center of the room. He immediately shrunk down a little, and shook his head. “I don’t dance.”

Charlie tilted his head. “Don’t or can’t?”

“Both.” Danny didn’t really want to admit that he never learned to dance. He meant to – he honestly did – and then he forgot.

“I’ll teach you, it’s easy.” Charlie grabbed Danny’s hand, and pulled him off the couch and towards the center of the room.

“I really don’t want to.”

“Tough shit, we’re dancing. Come on, it’ll be fun.” Charlie stopped kind of near the crowd of dancers, but a little further away so they had a good amount of space to dance.

Danny stood there awkwardly, already hating everything about this. “What… what do I do?”

“Alright, first, you’re right hand goes here,” Charlie guided Danny’s hand to his shoulder. “My right goes here,” He placed his hand on Danny’s waist. “We hold our left hands, and we dance.”

Danny stumbled a little as Charlie began moving, but after a minute or so, he began to get it. He didn’t think they were doing it right, though; dancing couldn’t just be stepping around in circles. Were there dips and spins and shit? Not that he could manage to live if Charlie were to try and dip him – he was just fine with this weird going-in-circles dancing.

“See, baby, you’re a natural,” Charlie murmured, keeping his gaze on Danny as they danced around the other guests.

Danny blushed, and was immediately grateful for the mask covering his face. “Thank you.”

The song ended, but another slow song followed. Danny didn’t feel like stopping, at least not yet, so they didn’t.

“Are you having a good time?” Charlie asked, sounding genuinely curious about the answer.

“More or less,” Danny admitted. “This isn’t my typical scene, you know?”

“Don’t you party?”

“Yeah, of course I do, but not like black tie-type parties. I’m more of a ‘drunk off my ass in a club where the music is so loud I can’t hear myself think’ kinda party-goer.”

“But this is kinda nice, right?” Charlie asked, not-so-subtly pulling Danny closer to him.

“I guess, why?” Danny let himself be a little closer; he didn’t exactly hate the feeling of being so close to Charlie.

“I like spending time with you,” Charlie said. “We all do.”   
Danny shook his head. “Why should I believe you?”

“Believe me or don’t, but I’m telling you the truth. We really do like you, Dan, a hell of a lot more than the others.”

“Whatever.” Danny found that to be his go-to word for when he didn’t feel like lingering on a topic anymore.

“Come here,” Charlie said softly, lightly tugging on Danny’s hands. He pulled Danny much closer – almost too close, but not quite. “Just relax, baby. Enjoy yourself.”

For once, Danny decided to willingly listen. He allowed himself to be embrace Charlie; he buried his face into the crook of Charlie’s neck, and looped his arms around his neck. He felt Charlie wrap his arms around his waist, and let out of a quiet sigh.

They most definitely weren’t dancing anymore; they were just casually swaying instead, going along with the slow beat of the music.

“Fuck, that’s cute,” A woman that sounded suspiciously like Vanessa said.

Danny ignored her, instead focusing on this serene moment he’d managed to find. It was so damn nice he almost felt like he was in a dream. He could almost forget about his mental conflict about whether this was all a farce, and just enjoy dancing with Charlie for what it was.

“You really are an amazing person,” Charlie whispered after a little bit. “In so many ways.”

“Don’t go falling in love with me,” Danny joked. He wasn’t used to being complimented like this, he didn’t know how to react.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing. I could have you all to myself.”

Danny was saved from replying by Charlie’s phone buzzing with a text. He groaned, and let Danny back away so he could check what it was.

“It’s time to go,” Charlie announced as he read the text. “They’re waiting outside for us.” Had they really been dancing for almost an hour? It sure didn’t feel like that.

“Okay.” Danny didn’t want to leave, now that he was actually having a good fucking time, but it was whatever. He let Charlie grab his hand, and lead him out the door, away from yet another place he hoped to never return to.

  


Once they had all gotten back to the house, Charlie let Danny shower and change into fresh sweatpants – again, he was given the luxury of socks! They weren’t matching though, which bothered him. One was blue with white stripes, and the other was a red and black checkered pattern.

Danny always knew that he was a generally messy person, but he was always careful to wear matching socks. Only disorganized slobs wore unmatching socks on purpose. But socks were socks, and he wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity.

Once that was done, he returned to Charlie’s room and found him and Funny chatting away on the bed.

“Danny!” Funny greeted with a goofy ass smile. “Nice job tonight! I brought you both some food, yours is on the desk.”

“Thanks.” Danny sat down on the wheeled chair, and picked up the bowl of his spaghetti that was there. Thank fuck, too – he was starving.

“So, was there anyone we knew?” Funny asked, turning his attention to Charlie.

“Yeah, Vanessa and Asia were there.”

“Did V ask about Jay?” Funny raised his eyebrows.

Charlie shook his head. “Nah, I think she’s finally moved on. She was hanging pretty heavy around Asia, like the entire night.”

“Damn, she likes chicks too?”

“Who doesn’t? Chicks are amazing.”

Danny began to wonder if it was worth it to start screaming; he was too tired to listen to this dumb ass conversation.

“Deuce kept saying shit about how he was surprised that you two did so good tonight-”

“Well,” Danny interjected. “Did well, not good.”

Funny just rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Do you think this has gotten us back in his good favor?” The way his volume dropped as he spoke and he leaned more towards Charlie made Danny instantly curious as to what this was about.

Charlie just shrugged. “I hope but you never know with him. It wouldn’t hurt to still do what he said, I mean, we have like four days and we’ve pretty much done it anyways. I think we’re good.”

“I fuckin’ hope so,” Funny said, standing up with a groan and a stretch. “It’s still your night, so I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.” He winked at Danny, then left the room.

“How often do you all go to those sorts of parties?” Danny asked in between bites of spaghetti.

“Not often, but whenever they happen, we always go. Sometimes they’re fun, like most of tonight.”

“Is Deuce gonna punish you for yelling at him?”

“I don’t think so. If Funny’s right, then we did a good job, and he shouldn’t be pissed.”

“Shouldn’t.”

Charlie sighed. “Yes, baby, shouldn’t. With him, it’s a fifty-fifty chance.”

Danny finished eating his spaghetti, and set the bowl on the desk.

“Come here,” Charlie said, patting the empty space next to him.

Danny figured this was happening, and despite his fatigue, he knew he had no choice, so he got up with a heavy sigh, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Lie down.” Charlie pushed him down so that his bare back was to the nice sheets, then began pulling down his sweatpants.

“What’s happening?” Danny asked, watching as his sweatpants fell to the floor.

Charlie grinned. “I’m gonna make you feel good, baby. You did great tonight, and I wanna reward you. Just close your eyes, and let me make you feel good.”

_Well, this is unexpected,_ was Danny’s last thought until his mind was thoroughly clouded over with pleasure.


	10. This is embarrassing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happens and Danny's embarrassed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this update being a week late, but school is interfering with both my time and my patience, leaving very little energy to write in the small amounts of free time I manage to get, but it's only for a couple more weeks. The next update might also be late, but what're you gonna do about it, ya know? Bleh.   
> All nonsense aside, I hope you like this chapter

Danny used to dislike people who paced around when they thought. He didn’t really understand it; why would you walk around just to think? He’d much rather sit still to configure his thoughts.

But that was the past. Now, Danny couldn’t seem to stop pacing. Or maybe he just didn’t want to stop. Maybe if he kept moving, his thoughts might just kind of run away too.

Danny wasn’t used to his emotions being so conflicted. He hated it, with every fiber of his being.

He hated being conflicted.

He hated not being in control of his stupid emotions. They didn’t know what he needed to survive.

He didn’t need to be missing Charlie. He didn’t need to miss the way he felt when Charlie and him were smoking, or dancing, or talking the night away. He _definitely_ didn’t need to miss the feeling of absolute pleasure he experienced in Charlie’s room.

What he needed was to hate Charlie, for what he had done to Danny. He needed to hold onto his hatred for the men around him. He needed to remind himself what they did to him.

Danny sighed, and ran his hands through his hair for the thousandth time. Why did emotions have to be so fucking convoluted? It was all just chemical signals and shit, they didn’t need to be so damn complicated.

And, to make matters worse, there was a fucking knock on his door. He now had to see Charlie again, and he had no idea how the fuck this would go.

The door swung open, but it wasn’t Charlie there – it was Funny.

“Hello there, angel.” Funny smiled. “Let’s go.”

“Where’s Charlie?” Danny asked, purely out of curiosity, and maybe relief. Scratch that, he was definitely feeling relief.

“Out on business.” Funny began walking towards his room. “He won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Where’d he go?”

“Somewhere.”

Danny took that as a sign to stop asking questions. He didn’t speak again for a little while; he didn’t speak when they got to Funny’s room, or when he was told to sit down on the bed.

“You seem tense,” Funny observed, placing himself on the bed next to him.

“I guess.” Danny really didn’t want to discuss it with anyone, much less the criminal next to him.

“Relax, angel. Tonight’s our night.”

“Right.”

Funny groaned, and rolled his eyes. “You need to loosen up, and I have just the thing.”

“Is it booze?” Danny perked up a little, unable to deny his sudden interest in the possibility of alcohol.

“Even better.” Funny winked, and slipped off the bed. He headed to the desk, and rummaged around in the drawers. “Do you do needles?”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“Needles, you know, sharp pointy things? Do you hate them?”

“No?”

Funny giggled – actually fucking giggled – and kept fiddling with whatever was in the drawer.

“What exactly are you doing?” Danny furrowed his brows. He couldn’t tell if he liked where this was going.

“Just sit tight there, it’ll ready in a moment.”

“What will be ready in a moment? Please tell me it isn’t drugs.”

“It is, so buckle the fuck up. You’re going for a hell of a ride.”

Danny clenched his fists. “Like the shit you gave me when you kidnapped me?”

“It’s different, we can’t use that shit even on you, it’s prime.” Funny shook his head. “We gave you the best shit on the market, and you didn’t even get to experience it. You just passed out.”

“I apologize for not being drugged on a regular basis.”

“You should be.” Funny pulled a syringe out of his drawer, filled with a yellowish liquid. His grin was manic, and very unsettling.

“What’s that?” Danny brought his legs up onto the bed, eyeing the syringe with distrust.

Funny just sat on the bed, and took Danny’s arm in his free hand. “Just let it happen, angel. You’ll feel amazing.”

Danny felt a prick in his arm, and hissed. He only had to wait a moment or two, and then a new sensation took over his body. It kind of felt like before; he felt lighter, as if he were floating.

Everything became both more muffled, and more sharp, as if he were underwater but could still feel everything that was happening. His vision blurred, as did his own thoughts. A soft layer of static covered everything, muting all the bad stuff. It was blissful; Danny could get used to this. He shut his eyes, and lost himself in these new sensations.

He was vaguely aware of being pushed back down onto the bed; he was hyper-aware of the soft sheets against his back, and a burning hand on his cheek. He tried to mumble something, but his brain couldn’t do it.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” Someone said, trailing their hands all over Danny’s body.

Danny tried to say something back, but again, he simply couldn’t do it. He was too lost in his sea of blur and peace. He never wanted to leave it.

He felt something on his lips. It was warm, and sweet, and kind of tasted like whiskey, or maybe tequila. It felt nice… it was a kiss!

Danny kissed back, albeit with less vigor; his brain was muffled, in such a nice way. He felt hands wandering near the brim of his pants, and even slip into them. A sharp feeling hit him, one of pure bliss.

“Charlie,” Danny couldn’t help but moan a little as he arched his back into the touches. He frowned when the hands pulled away.

He had to fight his brain to open his eyes, but even when he did, his vision was still out of focus. He could see the general blob of the man next to him, but he couldn’t make out his facial expression.

“What’s wrong?” Danny slurred, reaching his hand out to the other man. Well, more like flailing his hand out.

“What did you call me?” The man asked, his deep voice crystal clear amongst the rest of the static.

Danny couldn’t really process the question, so he gave a shrug – or what he hoped was a shrug – and closed his eyes again. He was getting kind of tired.

He smiled when the hands returned to his body, although this time, they seemed more rough. They burned more against his already too-hot skin, but they felt even better than before.

Danny was suddenly being kissed again, harsher than before, but no less pleasurable. The hands were gone again, only to return on Danny’s side, pushing him over onto his stomach.

“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?”

Danny didn’t understand why the man said that, but like before, he couldn’t reply. He could only let himself be manhandled; at least it felt nice. Or maybe Danny was just too numb to comprehend that it felt bad. Either way, he didn’t mind.

  


“Oh, my God, wake the fuck up!”

Danny shot up, and immediately regretted it; his stomach felt as though it did a cartwheel, his vision swam, and every movement was stab of pain to his head.

“You look like shit.”

Danny turned to the imposter, and tensed when he realized it was Johnny standing next to him. “I feel like it too.” He looked around, and found himself back in his cell.

“Here, drink this.” Johnny handed him a glass filled with water.

Danny gratefully took it, and drank the entire thing.

“Do you remember what happened last night?”

Danny furrowed his brows when he realized that his memory of last night had vanished. He remembered going to Funny’s room, and that was it. He shook his head. “No, I can’t. Why can’t I? What happened?”

Johnny smirked, and leaned against the wall. “Funny drugged you, and apparently, you said Charlie’s name when you were getting fucked.”

Danny almost dropped the glass he was still holding. Surely that _didn’t_ happen. Johnny had to be lying, right? That wouldn’t happen, not in a million years. Danny would never fucking say Charlie’s name during sex, not even if he were drugged, right?

“I’m not lying,” Johnny said as if he were reading Danny’s mind. “You can ask Funny, when he gets back.”

“Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know. He was pretty pissed when I saw him.”

If Funny had been angry, that would explain the new set of bruises literally all over Danny’s body. “Wait, why would he be angry?”   
Johnny shrugged. “Hell if I know. Maybe he’s actually fallen in love with you.” He chuckled to himself. “That’d be pretty hilarious.” He pushed himself off the wall, and offered his hand out. “Come on, we’re going up to my room. Bring that book I gave you.”

Danny took his had, and let himself be pulled up off his bed. God, his body ached. He made sure to grab his book, and followed Johnny up to his room.

He was surprised to see Jay there, lounging on the bed with his notebook on his lap.

“Hi.” Danny said, standing in the doorway.

“Sup,” Jay replied.

“You don’t look so good,” Danny blurted out.

It was true; Jay had bags under his eyes that were darker than his hair. Did he sleep at all?

“Says you,” Jay snapped.

Johnny motioned for Danny to actually enter the room, then he closed the door. “Play nice, you two.”

“What am I doing here? What is he doing here?” Danny asked, shifting his weight onto one foot.

“Deuce is out, we can do whatever we want, and that means spending some quality time together, as a family.” Johnny spoke with a weird voice, like a mother trying to desperately bond with her kids or something.

Jay rolled his eyes. “I got bored, and decided to do my work in here.” He patted the space next to him. “Sit down and read or whatever, and I’ll leave whenever you two wanna fuck.”

Danny sat down on the bed, still keeping his distance from Jay as much as he could. “Wait, where’s Kurlzz?” It just struck Danny that half the criminals that lived here weren’t actually here.

“He’s in his own room,” Johnny said. “He has a very important job to do, and he works best alone.”

“He’s also a hermit, but whatever,” Jay added.

Johnny shrugged. “Whatever gets the job done, man.”

The three men fell into a peaceful silence. Well, almost silence – Jay’s writing was audible, and Johnny typed so loud that every little key sounded like a tiny little snap. But Danny didn’t mind. It was nice to relax like this, he could almost believe he was just hanging out with friends, or something else sweet and domestic like that.

As the hours passed, Danny grew more than a little sleepy. He stretched out along the bed, still trying his best to keep to his side so as not to disturb Jay. Danny didn’t get how all these men could just sit one place for hours without moving, it seemed like magic.

Jay seemed to notice his sudden unwillingness to stay still, and threw down his notebook onto the bed. “I’m hungry,” He announced almost too loudly.

Johnny sighed. “Me too. Come on, let’s go grab some lunch. You too, Danny.”

Jay damn near jumped off the bed to catch up to Johnny as he left the room. “You heard from Deuce?”

“He called super early this morning, said he’d be back by midnight-ish.”

“He called _you_?” Jay sounded both offended and shocked. “Why not me?”

Johnny shrugged. “He told me he didn’t want to wake you up, but from the looks of it, you didn’t fucking sleep at all. Again.”

“Cool it, momma bear. I’m fine.”

Johnny nodded. “Uh huh.”

Thankfully, they made it to the kitchen, allowing for a very convenient subject change. At least, until Danny realized he’d probably have to actually make lunch now. He began to head for the fridge, but Johnny waved him off.

“I’ll make us all sandwiches, just sit down somewhere.” He said.

Danny didn’t really know what to say back, so he kinda just went over to the wall. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t the one making the lunch, but he also wasn’t one to complain about being able to get out of work.

Jay went and sat on the counter, lightly kicking his feet in the air. “I want ham and cheese.”

“What do you say?” Johnny sounded like a mother reprimanding her child.

“Now.”

“Jay.”

“Please.”

“There you go,” Johnny said, giving him an overly-wide smile.

Jay rolled his eyes.

“So, Danny, what do you want? We have ham and cheese, pb&j, honey if you’re one of those weird people who eat peanut butter and honey sandwiches, and maybe some other things.”

Danny was a little overwhelmed with the sudden amount of choices, so he went with something simple: “I’ll take a pb&j.”

“Good choice, good choice.” Johnny went about making the sandwiches, but was interrupted by someone very loudly the kitchen.

“’Sup, bitches, did you miss me?”

Danny tensed when he realized Charlie was back; he felt another wave of shame and disgust roll over him. God, he was fucking stupid.

Johnny gave Charlie a quick hug, while Jay just nodded – he didn’t wanna get up from the counter – and Danny just shrunk as much as he could into the corner of the kitchen.

“Hey, man, how’d it go?” Jay asked.

Charlie scoffed. “Amazing, as always.” He turned to the blonde in the corner. “Hey, baby, how ya doin’?”

Johnny coughed, and Jay was clearly trying to not laugh. Charlie, thankfully, didn’t notice that.

“I’m doing alright,” Danny said.

Charlie grinned, then turned to Johnny. “Yo, Three, you making sandwiches? Could you make one for your favorite brother?”

Johnny gave him a deadpan look. “As if you’re my favorite.”

“Bro!” Charlie brought his hand to his chest in feigned hurt. “I thought we were special, bro!”

“You thought wrong!” Johnny could hold his serious face, and dissolved into laughter. “Yeah, I’ll make you one. Peanut butter and honey, right?”

“You know it, baby girl.”

“Never call me that again.”

“No promises, baby girl.”

Danny hoped with all the sincerity he could manage that no one said anything to Charlie about the night he couldn’t fucking remember. Although, knowing what he did of these men, his hopes would probably be shattered.

“When’s Deuce supposed to be back?” Charlie asked.

“Midnight-ish,” Jay answered with a not-so-subtle undertone of extreme bitterness.

“Here are your sandwiches, fuckos.” Johnny distributed said food wrapped in paper towels around, then put away all the supplies.

Danny unwrapped his sandwich and was very happy to find that Johnny knew the perfect ratio of peanut butter and jelly; it was almost like magic.

“Do you guys wanna watch a movie?” Jay offered once he had wolfed down his sandwich. “I don’t feel like working.”

“Holy shit, Jay’s skipping work?” Charlie asked, dropping his jaw and slapping his cheeks. “Is the world ending?”

Johnny smirked. “Sure, I’m down for a movie. Which one?”

“Anything that isn’t a stupid chick flick.”

Danny didn’t mention that he kind of liked a few typical chick flicks. Some of them weren’t bad, but only some.

Charlie clapped his hands together. “Let’s get our movie on!”

The movie ended up being a long one – over two hours. Danny had been forced to sit on the couch between Johnny and Charlie, which was a different type of torture. For the entire movie, Danny kept expecting someone to tell Charlie what had happened, but thanks to whatever deity was watching over them, no one said anything.

After the movie had ended, Johnny took Danny up to his room for the usual sex. Danny wasn’t exactly glad to return to the normal routine – he still hurt during and after it – but at least he didn’t have to deal with more conflicted emotions.

Danny still didn’t know how he felt about Charlie, and that bothered him greatly. But there was only so much he could do about it, so Danny just went to bed immediately after being sent back to his cell. Maybe a few hours of sleep could magically solve all turmoil going on in his mind.

What a dream that would be.


	11. Why?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone leaves, J-Dog does something, and Danny asks the wrong question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first (I'm a realist) I'm super sorry that it's been damn near a month since I last updated this story! I could pull a bunch of excuses like school, personal life, blah blah blah, but it's really just because I got a writer's block and then started to hate my writing and then realized that hating you're writing is stupid and a waste of energy. Being indifferent about it is much easier.  
> I haven't given up on this story quite yet despite a lack of ideas for plot after this point, so while updates might be kinda spread apart, they will still be coming.  
> Also, the tags have been updated.  
> *THERE IS SELF HARM AND DRUG ABUSE IN THIS CHAPTER. THERE IS BLOOD IN THIS CHAPTER*  
> If you can't read this chapter because of the triggers, I will attempt a decent summary in the notes at the end of this chapter.  
> So, with ALL of that said, please enjoy this long-due chapter!

Something was wrong.

Well, Danny was mostly sure that something was wrong. He was 94.38 percent sure that something was wrong.

He had been left alone in his cell for what felt like days. And yes, normally, people use the phrase “felt like days” to mean only a few hours, but this time, he actually meant a few days.

Despite the lack of physical markers to tell the time, Danny could still tell that too much time had passed for him to be alone.

He could periodically hear very loud footsteps going back and forth upstairs, and what sounded like shouting and furniture being thrown around, so that also added to his presentiment.

After the fourth sleep cycle with still no appearance from any of the criminals, Danny’s curiosity got the better of him. He went over to the door, and hoped that something would go in his favor for once. He was also starving, and desperately wanted something to eat.

He turned the doorknob, and sighed when it was locked. Not that he expected anything different, but it was still a disappointment.

Then, he realized that the door was rusted and frail; it could probably be broken with the right amount of force. Hopefully, Danny could muster that amount of force despite the fact he hadn’t eaten in an extended amount of time.

Danny took a few steps back, mentally prepped himself, and then ran at the door. He hit the metal with his shoulder, and quickly decided that was one of the worst decisions of his life.

“Motherfucker!” Danny shouted, gripping his hurting shoulder and bending over. The throbbing pain was enough to make him reconsider his entire life track, and wonder why the fuck he would believe the movies.

Even though his effort to break the door was pointless, Danny did succeed in gaining someone’s attention. He heard more rumbling around upstairs, which quickly became harsh footsteps on the metal stairs, heading towards his cell.

Danny backed away from the door, still holding his shoulder. It was a good thing too, because whoever was behind the door threw it open hard enough for it to hit the other wall; the sound of metal hitting metal rang through the air, echoing in the empty space.

Johnny stood in the doorway, his mask off and looking worse for wear. He had bags under his eyes that had bags of their own, his cheeks were more gaunt than Danny remembered, and a scowl seemed to be permanently affixed to his face.

“We forgot you were here,” Johnny said, sounding as if every single negative emotion had taken residence in his mind.

Danny wondered what had gotten this man so damn upset, but he also knew better than to ask.

“We don’t have the time to deal with you, so take care of yourself. Your door won’t be locked anymore, but if you get in our way at all, I swear to Christ, we won’t hesitate to snap you in fucking half.”

With that lovely little remark, Johnny left, stomping his way back up the stairs.

Danny didn’t really know what to think about that. All he knew was that his shoulder still fucking hurt, and he was starving. So he decided to leave his room, and get himself some food.

He timidly went up the stairs, checking every few steps for foreign noises. There were always footsteps and stuff going on, so he gave up on trying to be quiet. At this point, he just wanted to get to the kitchen as quickly as possible.

By the time he got to the kitchen, all the footsteps had ceased. The entire house was silent. it was even more unnerving than before. Danny didn’t waste any time in grabbing himself some food – the last bit of leftover spaghetti – and ate it right there in the kitchen. He didn’t even bother heating it up. He was so hungry that cold spaghetti tasted like the most exquisite dish in the entire world.

Once he was fed, Danny wondered what the fuck to do now. If Johnny told the truth, he could now go wherever he wanted. So of course, he went to what he thought was the front door.

And it was locked. He was still trapped here. Wonderful.

Might as well go try and snoop. Maybe he could find anything that could help him escape. Or just have some fun. Anything to appease his impending boredom.

Danny went up the stairs, up to the second floor. He froze when he saw that every door was open wide. The doors to the bedrooms, the bathrooms, even the little closet at the end of the hallway, they were all swung open.

Danny really did not like looking at that, so he went up to the third floor. Again all the doors were open. Well, all but one. The door to Jay’s room was closed. That definitely sparked Danny’s curiosity.

He went up to the door, and knocked lightly. “Jay?” He called out softly. If Jay was in his room, and asleep or something, Danny didn’t want to be punished for waking him up. But then again, he was curious.

There wasn’t a response, so he knocked a little harder. “Jay? You in there?”

Still nothing. Danny took a deep breath, and opened the door.

The lights were on, for some reason. Danny scanned the room, and froze when he realized that Jay was indeed there, lying on his bed. Except not so much lying, as kind of slumped over his pillow.

Danny almost left the room, but then something glistening caught his eye. It was near Jay’s bed, on the floor. A big dark spot on the carpet; Danny almost waved it off as just another shirt on the floor. Except shirts didn’t glisten.

Something silver was next to Jay, on the bed. Danny stepped closer, and then almost bolted from the room. It was a razor blade.

Danny rushed to the bed, careful to not step in the puddle of what he hoped wasn’t blood. He grabbed Jay’s shoulders, and heaved him into an upright position.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jay!” Danny lightly slapped his face, continually jostling the unconscious criminal.

Danny cringed when he felt something wet and sticky on his hands. It had come from Jay’s arms, which he only now looked at, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Jay’s forearms were littered with cuts – some deep, some shallow, some fresh, some old, and all of them were bleeding.

Danny harshly shook Jay again, calling his name over and over, but it was no use. Jay wouldn’t wake the fuck up.

Why did this have to happen when Danny was the only other one in the fucking house?

Giving up on trying to wake Jay, Danny launched himself off the bed and ran to the bathroom. These people had to have a first aid kit, they just had to. Danny wouldn’t know what to do if Jay…

_Nope, stop right there, bad thoughts!_

Danny almost cried out in joy when he found a first aid kit unceremoniously shoved under the sink in the bathroom. He soaked a washcloth with very cold water, grabbed the first aid kit, and ran back to Jay’s room.

Jay had slumped over again, so Danny threw everything onto the bed, and almost slammed Jay back against the wall to keep him upright. Danny noticed a pill bottle fall off the bed, and bit his lip. How much worse could this get?

He picked up the bottle; it was just generic sleeping pills, the cheap store brand kind. Danny dropped the bottle back onto the floor. He hoped that Jay hadn’t swallowed the entire fucking bottle in one night.

Danny sat down on the bed next to Jay, and grabbed the wet the cloth. He began wiping away the blood on Jay’s arms, gagging as the harsh scent of copper grew stronger. He was never good with blood; this was pushing every limit he had.

Danny was so focused on trying to clean Jay’s arms, he didn’t hear the barely audible groans coming from the criminal, not until Jay tried to push him off with the minuscule amount of strength he possessed.

The sudden movement startled Danny so much he jumped back, falling onto his back on the bed, nearly landing on the floor.

“Jay! Holy shit, you’re alive!” Danny scrambled back to the criminal’s side, almost giving him a bear hug out of relief.

Jay just let his head hit the wall; his eyelids kept fluttering, as if he simply didn’t have the will to keep them open but kept trying. “I’m alive,” He whispered.

“I’m gonna clean you up, okay?”

Jay just nodded once, and shut his eyes. Now knowing that the criminal wasn’t dead, Danny went about the whole process a little slower, taking care to not cause any more pain. It suddenly struck him that he had no idea how to actually care for Jay’s wounds.

Oh, well. No one else was here to do it.

Luckily enough, none of Jay’s cuts seemed deep enough to warrant stitches, so Danny just got out the bandages and disinfectant.

“This is gonna sting, okay?” Danny held Jay’s arm over the blood-stained cloth, and prepared the bottle of disinfectant in his hand.

“Just get it over with.” Jay’s whisper was ragged and broken, and so unlike his normal, confident tone.

Danny carefully poured the clear liquid over Jay’s arms, wincing as the criminal hissed and jerked.

“Fuck!” Jay finally opened his eyes, and breathed heavily as he glared at the bottle of disinfectant. “What the fuck is that? Acid?”

Danny gave him a tired smile. “Hydrogen peroxide, but close.”

Jay shook his head, slumping his shoulders as the sudden bout of pain-induced adrenaline seemed to flee from his system. “Shit hurts.”

Danny said nothing; he just capped the disinfectant, and started bandaging Jay’s arms. “Just so you know, I have no idea if this is the right way to do any of this.”

“It’s fine.”

Danny bit his lip; he wanted to ask Jay so many questions, most of them centering around why the fuck he would do something like this. Yet he said nothing, not until he finished wrapping Jay’s arms. “There, that should do for now. Do any of the others know actual first aid?”

Jay brought his arms up and inspected them. “I don’t need it.”

Danny figured there were some underlying reasons for him not wanting to talk to one of the other criminals about his arms, so he let it drop. He began to gently climb off the bed, intent on going anywhere else but this rom, but he was stopped by a hand weakly wrapping around his wrist. He snapped his head up, and met Jay’s exhausted gaze.

“Stay. Please.”

Danny was struck by how… _vulnerable_ Jay sounded. He sounded weak, and helpless, and so unlike the normal, confident criminal. It was such a stark contrast, he couldn’t find it in him to refuse.

Jay waited until Danny had clambered over and sat down, then he slid down so he was lying on his side, back to the blonde, clearly indicating what he wanted.

Danny didn’t mind being the big spoon. It seemed like Jay needed it more than he did. He gently slid his arm over Jay’s waist, hesitating slightly.

“Is this okay?” Danny whispered, unsure of too many things to just assume anything.

“Yeah,” Jay said, tugging Danny’s arm a little, as much as he could in his weakened state.

Danny felt Jay relax, and only then did he let himself relax. Exhaustion – his constant companion nowadays – finally caught up to him; every bone in his body was weary.

Just before he drifted off, Danny swore he heard a whisper that sounded like a “thank you”. And then he fell into a sleep void of nightmares.

 

A very loud argument woke Danny the next morning.

“Damn it, George, mind the your own fucking business!”

That definitely sounded like Jay, but who the fuck was he talking – or shouting – at?

“I’m not an idiot, I know what the fuck happened.”

Only one fucking person in the world had that deep ass voice – it had to be Johnny. Wait, was George Johnny’s real name? Weird.

“Unless you have an update about _him,_ get the fuck out of my room.” Jay sounded the most furious that Danny had ever heard him. It was honestly terrifying.

“He’s still missing. Matty and I are going to make lunch, and I fully expect to see your ass downstairs, and eating every last goddamn bite.”

“Fine.”

“Leave Danny here.”

“Fine.”

“Ten minutes, Jay.”

_“_ _Fine.”_

The door was slammed shut, and Jay sighed. Danny opened his eyes, and watched as Jay collapsed into his chair. He noticed that the criminal was now wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

“I know you’re awake, Daniel.”

Danny didn’t like the use of his full name, but he didn’t say anything. He just sat up, unable to hide his guilt at eavesdropping. “What was that about?”

“The fuck do you think?” Condescension dripped from Jay’s voice. He shut his eyes, and shook his head harshly. “Sorry, I’m just… whatever.”

Danny bit his lip as his gaze fell on Jay’s arms. “Those need to be changed.”

Jay looked to them, blankly staring at his own arms. “You heard George; you got ten minutes.”

Danny grabbed the first aid kit that had fallen on the floor, and went over to Jay. As he began changing the blood-stained bandages, he made sure not to actually look at the criminal in front of him. The same question kept rotating around in his mind, cutting off any other thoughts. But he didn’t ask it. He just wrapped Jay’s arms in new bandages in silence, and then rolled his sleeves back down.

When he was finished, Jay just sat there. Danny zipped up the first aid kit, also remaining seated on the floor. He finally looked up to the criminal, whose gaze was focused on the floor.

“Jay,” Danny regretted speaking as soon as the name left his lips.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop with every passing second; Jay blinked once, but didn’t react otherwise. His face was completely unreadable, in the worst way possible.

“Jay,” Danny said again, a bit louder this time. “Why... did you do it?” There were probably better ways to ask that.

Jay licked his lips, keeping his blank stare on the floor. “Because.”

“Because _why_?”

Jay snapped his head to face Danny, glaring at him with enough fire to fuel a million coal furnaces. “Do you really wanna know why, Daniel? Do you really want to know why?”

Danny swallowed, but held his gaze. “Yes, I do.”

“It’s because Aron’s fucking gone!” Jay shouted as he stood up, now towering over Danny. “He just fucking left! He robbed us, and left!”

Danny ignored how terrifying Jay was right now, in favor of being more confused. Not only did he not know who the fuck Aron was, but he also couldn’t see why his leaving would affect Jay like this. “You did all that because this Aron left?”

Jay scoffed, a harsh, bitter sound, and slowly shook his head. “I did it because I fucking love him, alright?” He sank back down into his chair, as if every ounce of energy had just been drained from him. He didn’t look angry anymore, he just… seemed hurt.

Danny wanted to comfort him in some way, but all he could do was stare in shock.

Jay looked Danny in the eyes again. “I love him, and now I have to lead the search for him. I have to find him, and I have to put a bullet in his-” Jay’s voice broke; he couldn’t go on. He buried his head into his hands, and took deep breaths.

Danny just watched, suddenly feeling so fucking helpless that he hated himself for it.

After a few moments, Jay collected himself enough to stand up. His face was once again void of all emotions – his anger, his pain.. it was all gone. Danny might as well be looking at a statue.

“So that’s why I did it,” Jay said; his tone was cold and unfeeling. “I hope you’re happy.” He left the room, making sure to slam the door hard enough to crack the drywall this time.

Danny felt tears well in the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t know why they were there. He had no reason to cry. All he had was a million different thoughts racing through his head; none of them were coherent, and all of them were slipping through the crevices of his mind like sand. He could only grasp onto one single thought, the only one that made sense in the midst of the whirlwind.

He’d rather be called kitten instead of his full name. He’d rather be called anything instead of his full name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary:  
> Deuce/Aron has left the Undead after robbing them. Jorel is heartbroken, and harms himself. Danny patches him up, and they spend the night together. Danny learns Jorel's and George's real names after hearing an argument between Jorel and George. Danny asks Jorel why he harmed himself, Jorel reveals to Danny that he loves Aron, and then leaves Danny alone in his room. Danny realizes he doesn't like any of the Undead using his full name.  
> End of summary.  
> Sorry if this all seems a bit much, I just want to accommodate for any readers who might have triggers.


	12. New Crew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New developments in the case of the missing weasel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late chapter, I still have no excuses. I'm still struggling to get this story to where I want it to go, but I at least have a plot in mind for the next few chapters.   
> This chapter isn't that great, but please enjoy nonetheless!

Danny waited a few minutes, then quietly left Jay’s room. He knew that he shouldn’t probably leave, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He wanted to know why George said leave him in the room.

As silently as he could, Danny crept over to the staircase that led down to where the kitchen was. Even from there he could hear a few men talking; all of the criminals must be back home. Save for whoever Aron was.

“Matty, the fuck are you doing?” What sounded like Charlie had asked.

“My job, you idiot.” Was that Kurlzz? Danny couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Kurlzz.

“Put your computer away, we’re eating!”

“Leave him be,” George ordered. A few clunking sounds were heard, and then George said, “Eat up, dumbasses. You too, Jay.”

“I’m eating, so leave me the fuck alone.” That was definitely Jay’s cold voice.

“So, since we’re all here, what the fuck are we going to do about Daniel?” Jay asked.

Danny’s blood ran cold. What could that mean? What was there to be done about him? He hadn’t done anything, why would something need to be done about him?

“How do you mean?” Funny asked, sounding as if he was speaking through a full mouth of food.

“He was Deuce’s pet project, not ours,” Jay said.

Wait, was Aron _Deuce_? That would explain why his disappearance caused such a mess. A gang without its leader wouldn’t survive more than a week… no wonder Jay was such a mess right now.

“Doesn’t mean anything has to be done,” Charlie piped up. “We can’t free him, and it’s not worth it to kill him.”

“We have bigger shit to deal with, let’s just leave Danny alone,” Funny added.

“Fine,” Jay said. “Daniel can stay, assuming he doesn’t become a nuisance.”

“I’d say he’s already helped more than anything,” George muttered.

“Fuck off.”

Deciding that he had heard enough, Danny crept back to Jay’s room. He didn’t like being talked about as if he were a dog that needed to be taken care of. It was demeaning. Sure, it felt nice to be somewhat defended by Funny and Charlie, but still… he was a person, after all. He deserved to have a say about himself.

For now, he resolved to get in the way as little as humanly possible. He didn’t need any of these criminals snapping and killing him. He didn’t want to die like that. Sure, there were worse ways to go, but still. Death by crazed-criminal wasn’t really the way Danny had planned on leaving this pitiful world.

  


After a little while, Jay returned to his room with a sandwich wrapped in a paper towel. He gave it to Danny, who had been sitting on his bed, then sat down at his desk.

Danny wanted to ask about the conversation he’d overheard, but he wasn’t stupid enough to admit he’d been eavesdropping, so he just ate his sandwich, and waited for the criminal to say something.

“You don’t have to stay here” Jay said eventually, as he opened a drawer in his desk, took out his laptop, and started working.

Internally grateful for the opportunity to leave, Danny slipped off the bed and exited the room as quietly as he could. He kinda wanted to talk to someone about Jay, and tell them about what had happened; he felt like he knew this secret that none of the others were aware of, and he didn’t like keeping secrets. Although it seemed that George already knew.

Danny went downstairs, suddenly aware that he had no idea what he was doing. He had nothing _to do._ Well, he had that book that George had loaned him…

Danny entered the living room, and was a little surprised to see George lying on the couch, a blanket draped over his legs and an abandoned book on the floor near his head.

_Speak of the devil and he will appear,_ Danny thought with a smirk. He didn’t go disturb the criminal, though. It seemed that George was napping, and the blonde shuddered to think what might happen should he disturb his sleep.

Danny let out a little sigh, and decided that he might as grab his book from his cell, and read on one of the other couches. Maybe enjoy some company that he didn’t have to work for.

So Danny did just that. He read, for a few hours. He was almost finished with the book, and was quite engrossed in it. He was surprised that he had been here for so long without any disturbances, mainly George waking up.

“Danny!” A harsh whisper sounded from behind him disturbing his reading. Of course.

Said blonde closed his book and looked up, seeing Funny crouched on the stairs. “What?” He whispered back, shooting a glance at George, who was still fast asleep.

“Come here.” Funny frantically beckoned him with both his hands, then hurried back up the stairs.

Knowing he didn’t have a choice, Danny followed the curly-haired man into his bedroom. “What did you want?” He hoped with all he had that he hadn’t been called up here for sex. He was the furthest thing from in the mood right now.

“I need a break,” Funny said, sifting through his dresser. “And I figured you do too. Everyone else is out searching, so do you wanna go to the park?”

“Searching for what?” Danny asked before he could help himself.

“A certain horse-like skeleton who decided to dick over the most dangerous group in all of California.” Funny produced a bundle of clothes, and held them out. “Here, for the park.”

Danny took the garments, and frowned when he saw the red sleeveless hoodie that was on the bottom of the pile. He glanced back up to the criminal in front of him. “This is mine. You’ve had my clothes?”

Funny coughed, and waved him off. “Just get dressed. I’ll answer your questions when we’re at the park.”

“Fine.” Danny was delighted to find a clean pair of boxers in the pile too. His own too. Once he was dressed, he felt the most comfortable that he had since he arrived in this shithole, wearing his own damn clothes. His sleeveless hoodie and denim vest, his favorite outfit. The comfort that came from wearing his own clothes almost rivaled the excitement that came from the fact that he’d be going into the outside world.

Funny clapped his hands, sporting a wild grin as he led Danny out of his room and into the basement. “We’re taking my car,” he said as they entered what Danny guessed to be the main garage.

It was a large room, with three cars all stored there. Danny was led to the furthest one, a black Cadillac, of all things. She was gorgeous, Danny had to admit, but she didn’t seem like the most practical car for a criminal to have, at least in terms of blending in.

The two men got into the car, and then they were off.

Danny couldn’t help but smile as soon as they left the garage. The fresh air was such a blissful feeling, it felt as if Danny’s lungs were being purified. The sun was getting ready to set too; hints of oranges, yellows, and pinks were all visible.

Thanks to the lack of a roof on the car, the wind whipped through Danny’s hair. He was fairly sure that Funny was speeding, but he couldn’t give a single damn about being pulled over. After however long he spent cooped up in that building, being outside was the most amazing feeling he’d ever experienced.

It briefly struck Danny that he was kinda like a dog on a car ride; all he needed was to stick his tongue out, and start panting. The thought made him laugh a little.

Funny turned on the radio, tuned it to a rock station, and cranked up the volume. Danny didn’t recognize the song, but that didn’t matter. He let the music rush over him, exciting him further to an almost manic level.

For about the next half hour, the two of them sped along the streets of Los Angeles, bouncing around to the harsh music, ignoring everything else in the world.

Eventually, they pulled up to the park Danny didn’t recognize. This park was nice, though. There was a skate park section, a pond with some ducks, and other typical park-things.

Funny took Danny’s hand – his hand was surprisingly soft – and led him over to a secluded bench near the skate park, which was currently empty. There were a few families lingering over on the other side of the park, but neither man paid them any attention.

“What day is it?” Danny asked, staring at his hand still linked with Funny’s. He was holding hands with a fucking criminal, and he didn’t feel like puling away. He was more focused on the sudden revelation that he had absolutely no clue what day it was, or even could be.

“Wednesday.”

The two of them sat down on the bench, now facing the setting sun. They had a glorious view of the sunset; the sky was streaked with reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks. It was so beautiful that it made Danny feel all warm and fuzzy.

_Fucking gay,_ Danny thought to himself with a small smile.

Neither of the two men said anything; the sudden silence settled around them in a comfortable haze. Despite the fact that Danny still had a million questions running through his mind, and a thousand more things he just wanted to get off his chest, he kept his mouth shut. The sunset was so pretty, so beautiful, so gorgeous. Danny would’ve kept going, but he couldn’t think of anymore synonyms.

It wasn’t until the sun had almost completely set – the sky was almost dark, and what clouds there were dotted the sky were a slightly purple color – that Funny broke the silence.

“Do you like living in the city?” The way he asked it made it sound like he’d been thinking about whatever situation had prompted the question for a long while.

Danny didn’t really know how exactly to answer that. He’d _only_ ever lived in the city. “I-I guess. I mean, I haven’t died yet.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Funny waved his hand around, searching for a better way to word his question. “Do… would you rather live in like the country side or the city?”

Danny thought for a moment, but he didn’t really need to think too long about it. “City. The whole small-country-town thing seems like it’d be too quiet, and also like the kinda scene where everyone knows each other, you know? There’s no real privacy, I guess.”

Funny nodded, as if pleased with his answer. “Me too. I like the city. I like the people.”

Danny hummed.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but we’ve all grown to like you, Danny.” Funny turned to him, bringing one leg up onto the bench so that he could turn his entire body to face the blonde. “As a person, not just a sex doll.”

Danny grimaced. “You could’ve phrased that a bit better, but… thanks.” He wanted to believe that Funny was telling the truth, but these criminals were quite the manipulative group of bastards.

“I mean it. We really all do appreciate what you’ve been doing, and we all truly enjoy your company.” Funny’s gaze softened, and bare smile appeared on his lips. “You saved Jay’s life. You didn’t have to. If any of us were in the same situation, we would’ve just left him to die. But you didn’t. You’re a true angel, angel.”

Danny began to smile on his own, and he had to drop his gaze down to the concrete in front of them. “Funny-”

“Dylan.”

“What?”

“My name’s Dylan.”

“Alright, Dylan.” Danny didn’t hate how it sounded; it seemed to fit the curly-haired goofy-ass man sitting next to him.

“Wanna play I-Spy?” Dylan asked with his eyebrows raised and a goofy smile. “I kick ass at that game.”

Danny huffed. “You think you can beat the champion? Let’s fucking go, bro!”

  


By the time the two of them got back to the warehouse, night had thoroughly fallen, and Danny had learned a bit more about what his life might be like in the future. On the drive back, Dylan told him all the criminal’s real names, and he also said that they had all of his clothes the entire fucking time.

Apparently, it was Deuce’s idea for him to wear nothing but sweatpants. Just one more reason for Danny to hate that weaselly little man.

Now, Danny will be wearing socks every goddamn day. No more incessantly-cold feet for him, no sir.

“Where the fuck have you been?” George damn-near shouted at them as soon as they stepped through the door into the basement.

“Chill your shit, man, we went to the park.” Dylan placed his hand over Danny’s shoulder, facing their investigator with a lazy smile. “Nothing bad happened, alright?”

“You still could’ve told literally anyone where you went!” George lowered his volume, but didn’t sound any less angry. “We thought the worst had happened.”

Dylan scoffed. “Is the worst us being dead or us going to _him_?”

Danny didn’t really know what was going on between the two of them. All he knew was that he wanted to slip away to anywhere else.

“Dyl-”

“I know what you were thinking, George. We would never do that. _I_ would never do that. Learn to fucking trust me, because I sure as shit trust you.”

“This isn’t about trust, this is about you disappearing with Danny for hours on end without anyone knowing where the fuck you went!” George seemed to lose some of his steam, if his sagging shoulders were any hint to go by. His scowl turned into a frown, and his brows furrowed in concern. “We thought the worst.”

Dylan seemed to realize the error of his actions. He shot an apologetic look to Danny, then moved towards George, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. “Sorry for making you worry, Georgie. Won’t happen again.”

Danny suddenly felt as if he were intruding on a special moment. He silently slipped away, skirting around the two criminals still hugging, and went upstairs.

He decided to check in on Jay – or Jorel, apparently – just to be safe.

Danny knocked lightly on Jorel’s door, then entered once he received the verbal okay.

“Hey,” The blonde man greeted, easing the door shut behind him.

Jorel was sitting on his bed, furiously staring at his laptop situated on his, well, lap. “What do you want?”

“Um, I was just seeing you needed anything.” Danny strained his neck to get a look at the bandages on the criminal’s arms, and frowned when he saw the rusty stains on the gauze. “Your bandages should probably be changed. And it’s late, you should go to bed soon.”

“I should do a lot of things, but I live to disappoint.” Jorel shot him a cynical smile.

Danny, however, was unamused. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Can’t remember.”

“Drank anything without an alcohol content?”

Jorel actually scoffed at that. “Cute.”

Danny sighed. “So, I’m going to get you some food and a glass of water. And fresh bandages.”

“Knock yourself out. Literally.”

“Calm down, edgelord.” Danny left the room, returning barely five minutes later with a sandwich, some water, and the first aid kit. He should probably just store the damn kit in Jorel’s room, just to make it easier.

“My knight in shining armor has doth returned,” Jorel says, dramatically throwing his arm over his eyes. “However did I survive in your absence?”

Danny rolled his eyes, and handed the sandwich and water to the criminal. “Eat this, and I’ll change your bandages.”

“Fine.” Jorel began eating the food with a scowl, letting the blonde work on one arm at a time.

“Are you sure none of the others know any actual medical shit?” Danny asked as he eyed down the healing wounds before applying the fresh gauze. “I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t want them to see,” Jorel said, so quietly that Danny almost didn’t hear it, despite being next to him. “Besides,” He said a little louder. “You’re doing a great job.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“So what if I am? I’m still alive, and my arms aren’t infected or anything.” Jorel finished his sandwich, then grabbed the glass of water and began chugging it.

Danny just stared at him. “Really?”

“What?” Jorel placed the now-empty glass on the bedside table. “I ate, and I drank, and my bandages are clean.”

Danny shook his head, and zipped up the first aid kit. “You’re all good. Goodnight.”

“Are you really gonna sleep in your room in the basement?”

“As opposed to what? The roof?”

“Not really.” Jorel gestured lightly to his bed; his tight-lipped expression seemed to convey a silent hope.

Danny nodded; he’d secretly been hoping that he’d be given the chance to sleep in a real bed. And his hatred for all of the guys seemed to be waning, ever so slightly. So he climbed into the bed, settling right up against Jorel’s side.

The domesticity of the entire situation – his head was lying on Jorel’s shoulder, and the criminal’s arm was curled around his shoulder – wasn’t lost on Danny.

“Goodnight, Jay.”

A pause. Then, “Goodnight, kitten.”

Danny fell asleep with a smile.

  


The two men were yanked from their slumber by an intruder slamming the door open with a shout.

Jorel pushed Danny off of him, and grabbed something out from between under his mattress, pointing it at the intruder before he even opened his eyes.

Danny hurriedly sat up, and froze when he realized that Jorel was holding a fucking pistol. Did he seriously sleep with a gun under his bed?

“Matty, what the fuck? I almost shot you!” Jorel glared at the man in the door, who was indeed just Matthew. He put the gun back where it belonged, and stood up.

Matthew ignored the fact that he had almost been shot, and entered the room uninvited. He looked damn near frantic; his eyes were bloodshot, his hair was even more wild than normal, and his hands were shaking worse than a junkie going through withdrawal.

“I think I know where Aron is,” Matthew spoke quietly, keeping his gaze anywhere except Danny.

Jorel stilled, as his expression quickly grew unreadable. “You think?”

“He’s taken up with a new crew. The guy I’ve been looking for, and a couple others.”

“How do you know?” Jorel’s voice was colder than liquid nitrogen.

Matthew began wringing his hands together. “I may have put out a few scouts that none of you know about. Purely for reconnaissance, you know? But one of my scouts happens to be a manager at a gas station they saw Aron and the dude I was looking for at around two in the morning.” He spoke so fast that Danny could barely keep up.

Jorel sat back down on the bed, clearly deep in thought. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his hands.

“How many of us are here, right now?” He asked.

Matthew shrugged. “I think all but Jordon, I have no idea where the fuck he is.”

“Get his ass back here.”

“Are you calling a meeting?”

“Yes, dumbass, I’m calling a fucking meeting.”

Matthew crossed his arms with a scowl. “Jay.”

Jorel took a deep breath, and nodded. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Please gather everyone for a meeting in the living room.”

“Got it.” Matthew quickly left the room, shouting very loudly in every direction about the meeting.

Danny shifted on the bed, trying to contain the whirlwind of new questions he found himself wondering.

Jorel jerked at the movement, as if he suddenly remembered that there was another person on the bed with him. “Shit, you scared me, kitten.”

“Sorry.” He wasn’t actually sorry, but whatever.

Jorel looked at Danny. “Come to the meeting”

“Uh-” Danny tilted his head, entirely caught off guard. “What?”

“Downstairs, in the liv-”

“Yeah, I know, but why?”

“Why not?” Jorel stood up, shutting down the conversation with a wave of his hand. “Come on. You can just sit there, if you like, but just come on.”

Danny just sighed, and followed the criminal down to the living room. He supposed there was no negative to being at the meeting, but it’s not he could exactly be an asset. Although, he was curious about who the fuck these people were searching for.

When they got to the living room, Jay sat down on the middle couch, while Danny sat on the right one, on the far edge of it.

Eventually, the rest of the guys all made it to the living room too. George sat down beside Jorel, while Jordon and Dylan took the right cough, and Matthew sat down next to Danny.

None of them said anything about Danny’s presence; they didn’t even seem to mind that he was there.

Jorel gestured to Matthew, who scoot forward a little and cleared his throat.

“Deuce has a new crew. Yuma, and probably a few others,” Matthew spoke as if he were telling someone their loved one had died.

George’s expression hardened. “Are you certain?”

“They were seen at a gas station three hours north of us.”

“Why is he so close?” Jordon asked, seemingly to himself.

George shook his head. “It doesn’t matter why. We should take this chance, and hit him _now_ , while he’s still in the same state. We don’t know where he might be heading.”

“If he was going somewhere, he’d be there by now,” Dylan said coldly. “He stole enough from us to get anywhere in the fucking world.”

“We should still hit him now,” George insisted. “Get a team together, get some guns, and go put his ass down, once and for all.”

“And get us all killed?” Jorel countered. “We don’t know how many assholes we’re up against, much less where the fuck they’re actually holed up. We’d be walking into a fucking hurricane with blindfolds on.”

“We'd get shot to pieces before we could even say hi,” Dylan grumbled.

“What if I just go alone?” Matthew offered. “Scouting mission, see if I can figure out where he’s stationed.”

Pretty much everyone else shook their heads at that plan.

“Take someone with you,” Jorel said.

Even Danny knew that going alone was a suicide mission. Unless, of course, he had other motives for going alone.

“Jordy, looks like you and I are going on a road trip,” Matthew said, turning to said criminal with a grin.

Jordon smiled, and pumped the air with his fist. “Fuck yeah, bro! I’ll bring some bangin’ tunes!”   
“Your music sucks dick, and you know it,” George said with a roll of his eyes.

“We like the same music, fuckass.”

“I know.”

“Is there a specific time you want us to leave?” Matthew asked, loud enough to be heard over the bickering.

Jorel shrugged. “I would say now, but-”

“I’m good to leave now,” Matthew interrupted.

Jordon nodded, holding his hand up to George’s face to silence him. “Me too.”

“Perfect.” Jorel’s tone indicated that this situation was anything _but_ perfect.

“Should three days be enough?” Matthew looked to Jordon, who nodded.

Jorel clapped his hands together. “Alright. Good luck, guys.”

“We’re all gonna need more than luck,” George muttered unhelpfully.


	13. Another Loss (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordon and Matthew's reconnaissance mission doesn't go as planned. Not even a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, with another two-part chapter! I'm only splitting it because I needed to update this weekend and the chapter is also coming out extremely long, so here's part one this weekend.   
> Please enjoy!

Jordon pulled the car up to a motel that was about twenty minutes away from the gas station Matthew said the horse-man had been spotted. He wished he could’ve taken his lovely little miata, but he knew as well as anyone that a miata does not blend in, so they stole some other prick’s car.

“I’ll check us in,” Matthew offered, hopping out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop.

Jordon shook his head, and gathered their luggage from the car – they each brought a duffal bag, nothing fancy – and waited for his wild-haired brother to hurry the fuck up.

Ten minutes later, they were both unwinding in a shitty motel room that barely had enough space for two twin beds and a bathroom.

“No shared bed this time?” Jordon asked, only slightly playful. They’d shared a bed before, and it wasn’t awful.

Matthew apparently disagreed. “No, you steal all the blankets just to throw them on the floor in the middle of the night. I want my own bed.”

“I don’t steal the blankets!” Jordon knows they sometimes end up on the ground, but he doesn’t steal them. Only very rude people steal blankets.

“Bullshit and you know it.”

“Whatever. So, how are we getting started on the search for the missing horse?”

“Horse?”

“Aron.” Jordon raised his hands to his mouth. “His teeth are… big, you know? Like a horse.”

Matthew just nodded. “Okay, got it. Thank you for explaining it to me.”

“I thought it was obvious,” Jordon murmured, mainly to himself.

“You think a lot of things.”

“Most people do.”

Matthew rolled his eyes, but his little smile gave away his amusement. “You’re an idiot.”

“Now, if I had a dollar for every time someone told me that,” Jordon paused, briefly running through every time he’d been called an idiot that he could remember, “I’d probably at least forty bucks this week.”

“It’s only Wednesday.”

“Like, fifteen of that is just from you, bitch.”

  
“Dick.”

“You rang?” Jordon playfully wiggled his hips around, or as much as he could while he was lying on his bed.

Matthew sighed, and brought his hands up to rub his temples. “Why did I bring you with me?”

“Because you love me and because I’m good at what we do. Speaking of which...”

“Yeah, we should probably get started.” Matthew turned his laptop towards his brother, and began pointing at various spots on a map he’d pulled up of the surrounding area. “We gotta start checking everywhere for him.”

  


The hours passed, and no results were there to show for it. They were no closer to finding out where Deuce or Yuma or any other potential crewman had gone, and Matthew was getting more and more anxious about the entire situation.

The wild-haired man was currently pacing the motel room, burying his hands in his hair and harshly pulling on it as he thought.

Jordon just watched, half-lying on his own uncomfortable bed, yawning every thirty seconds from exhaustion and boredom. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, and wasn’t surprised to see that it was well past four in the morning. They both have been up for almost twenty four hours now.

“Matty, we should sleep.”   
“I’m not tired.”

“Bullshit.”

Matthew shook his head. “I’m not going sleeping, not when he’s still out there.”

“We can’t find him if we’re delirious from a lack of sleep. We have to rest, or we’ll never find him, and you know it.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Can you look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you, who has now been awake for a day, are not tired?”

Matthew swallowed, then slowly shook his head. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“And the truth comes out,” Jordon muttered. “Now go to bed.”

“Fine.” Matthew made his way over to his bed, and lied down on top of the covers.

Jordon tilted his head. “You’re not gonna… get under the blankets? You bitch about me stealing blankets and then you don’t even use them?”

“I won’t be able to sleep, so why bother?”

“You could at least try. Nothing’s going to get done if you don’t sleep, and we only have three days.” Three days was the standard amount of time the guys had all agreed was necessary for a quick scouting mission. Anything less, and nothing was learned. Anything more, and maybe you had died.

Matthew threw his hands up into the air in exasperation. “I can’t just command myself to sleep, you know!”

“Which is why I brought your sleeping meds,” Jordon said with an air of pride. He slipped off his bed, and began rummaging through his bag. Finally, buried down at the bottom underneath his pants, was the little white bottle of store-brand sleeping pills. He tossed it to his brother, then got back into his bed.

“We gotta get more,” Matthew took the last two pills, carefully placed the empty bottle on his own nightstand, then settled down underneath the covers.

“I’ll do that tomorrow,” Jordon said with a wave of his hand.

The two men fell silent, but for different reasons. Jordon was almost asleep when Matthew suddenly had a question.

“Do you think Jay will really be able to pull the trigger?”

Jordon briefly wished he didn’t know exactly what that question meant. “Why are you asking that? Do you think he won’t?”

A pause, then, “I don’t know.”

“You always know.”

“Well this time, I don’t.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“I don’t know.”

Jordon sighed, half in exasperation and half in concern. “Those pills kicking in yet?”

“You hate me that much?”

“No, I just want you to go the fuck to sleep so that _I_ can go the fuck to sleep.”

“Alright, alright, fine. Goodnight, dick.”

“Goodnight, asshole.”

  


The next day was just filled with more searching that yet again yielded no results. They even worked for well over twelve hours – despite their late night, they both were awake before noon, somehow.

The clock read very close to two in the morning by the time Jordon decided to call it quits. He shut his laptop, and did the same to Matthew’s, who responded with indignant spluttering.

“I’m going out to get you more sleeping meds, is there anything else you need?” Jordon asked rather loudly. Even though he was exhausted, he didn’t mind walking the short distance to a corner store near the motel.

Matthew ceased his resistance, and shook his head. “Just the meds, thanks.”

“Don’t work anymore tonight. If I see either laptop open when I get back, you don’t get any coffee in the morning!”

“I’d like to see you fucking try and take away my coffee, you self-serving dickhead.”

“Cool it, bitch.” Jordon rolled his eyes with a small grin, made sure he had his keys and the room card, then left the tiny motel room. As soon as the night air hit him, he couldn’t help but take a deep breath. It was a lot better than the stuffy motel room.

Jordon tended to like going on these away-missions. They gave him a chance to hang out with his brothers, but also do the job he loved. But this one was different. It was a lot more stressful, and just worse in general.

The target usually wasn’t someone who used to be their brother and leader. Who then betrayed them in a horrible way. Jordon usually didn’t want to snap the target’s neck like he did now. He needed the forced professionalism that Jay seemed to exude so easily.

Jordon was so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost walked right past the little corner store, but the neon window signs were attention-grabbing enough. He walked into the cold little store, and headed straight for the cheap drugs section.

As he was scanning the little boxes, he heard something that sounded like a harsh clap of thunder. Except the skies were clear.

A quick glance to the cashier showed they were just as confused, but they just shrugged it off and kept reading their magazine.

“What the fuck,” Jordon whispered to himself. He wanted to bolt and get back to Matty, but he knew that everything as probably alright. He quickly grabbed the sleeping pills he knew Matty took, and headed to the cashier.

He tried to silently convey that he was in a rush, but apparently the cashier didn’t care. Jordon became so impatient that he just threw more than enough money on the counter, grabbed the pills, and started briskly walking back to the motel.

Sirens began sounding in the distance, and Jordon’s blood ran cold. They were definitely getting closer – Jordon had heard more than enough sirens in his life to know they were getting fucking closer.

He broke into a sprint, then stopped dead in his tracks. The motel was… destroyed. The wing where Jordon and Matty had booked their room was utterly obliterated. A fire was starting around the hole where their room had been. Rubble was all over the parking lot, and people from the rest of the motel were starting to crowd the parking lot.

Jordon clenched his jaw, if only to keep himself from screaming. The sirens were getting too loud; the cops would be here in a couple minutes. He had to leave. He had to, he had no choice.

He forced himself to walk to the car. He forced himself to get in the car, and drive away. He forced himself to not look back as he sped away, carefully avoiding the streets he figured the cops would take.

Jordon gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white, but he didn’t stop. He only paused to turn on the radio, and cranking the volume too high. It was shitty music, but it was loud enough to block out the bad thoughts.

Like the fact that he left his brother-

“Stop it,” He muttered to himself, wringing the wheel unnecessarily tightly. He couldn’t think those bad thoughts now. _He just had to get back home._

 

The first night that Jordon and Matthew had left was… tense, to say the least. Everyone was on edge, enough that Danny almost considered just hiding away in his cell for the next few days. But then George had invited him to watch a movie with all of them, and he didn’t want to decline and seem rude or anything.

So for the first night, the four of them curled up on the couches with cheap microwave popcorn and beers, and watched several movies. Danny had ended up sharing a couch with Dylan, while George and Jorel shared another.

The first movie they watched was pretty good. It was about a deaf author who was being hunted down by a murderous psychopath and the thing she needed to use to escape was in front of her face the entire movie. Danny fell asleep during the second movie – something about a woman who needed money for her brother’s health and had to go to a strange dinner party and play a childish game to win and it all takes a really dark turn.

He woke up the next morning to an empty couch, with his blanket tucked in and a cup of coffee on the little side table next to him.

The second day was even more tense, if that was possible. Danny kept going all about house, checking in on each criminal several times.

Jorel isolated himself in his room the entire day. From what Danny could tell, he kept switching between working on his laptop and pacing so much that a path would begin to show up on the floor.

George and Dylan chose to be stressed together, and lock themselves in a room in the basement that Danny wasn’t allowed in. Of course, that only made Danny more curious as to what was in that room.

So he went and asked Jorel what all the basement was used for.

“Cells, torture, storage, shit like that.”

“What storage? What is stored in the basement?” Danny pressed, absentmindedly picking up an empty liquor bottle on the floor.

“Our guns, and a little bit of our supply we push. Why?”

“No reason.”

Jorel tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Danny dropped his gaze to the floor. “George and Dylan are in the basement and they won’t let me in the room.”

Jorel sighed. “They’re probably just cleaning the guns or whatever. It’s something they do when they’re stressed.”   
“That’s… an odd stress reliever.”

“Whatever works, man. Whatever fuckin’ works.”

Danny didn’t dare question it further, and instead decided to make lunch for everyone. It was nearing one in the afternoon, and he knew for a fact that no one had eaten anything. Himself included, but whatever.

And that was his job for the rest of the day. Delivering food and/or drinks whenever it was requested of him, and otherwise staying out of the way. It was boring, but he didn’t really see another option. He didn’t want to try and spend more time with Jorel on his own, for so many reasons.

Danny also learned that day-drinkng was much too common around here. George preferred coffee spiked with whiskey, while Dylan just drank beer, and Jorel probably just drank whatever liquor was in his room and wouldn’t kill him.

Danny had never been a hater of day-drinking, but this was just ridiculous. He didn’t even want to think about how much alcohol these people went through in a year.

Towards the end of the night, Jorel gathered the three others in the dining room to play cards. More beers were served, and cards were dealt.

They started out playing BS, but that devolved into madness. They tried playing several other card games, but everything turned into a shouting match, mainly between George and Jorel, so they just settled on poker.

Normally playing poker when it was well past midnight wasn’t the best idea Danny had ever had, but he didn’t want to stop. He was actually having fun, and since there weren’t consequences if he lost, he saw no reason to quit.

They ended up playing for a few hours, until it was well past three in the morning. None of them really wanted to quit, considering that would mean going to bed but failing to actually sleep. So the poker went on and on and on.

Just as Dylan was about to win another round – he’d been sweeping dam near every game, it was unbelievable – something loud banged in the basement. It almost sounded like a door being slammed shut.

The three criminals were standing in a flash. Within a moment, George had shoved the table over, sending the beer bottles and cards to the flying, while Jorel yanked Danny down onto the floor. The four of them all crouched behind the fallen table, everyone but Danny all looking confused yet angry.

“There’s a pistol in the kitchen,” Dylan whispered. “I need to get to it.”

“Shut up,” Jorel hissed, bracing his hands against the table.

Heavy, stomping footsteps were making their way up the stairs from the basement. Danny swore he could also hear sniffling, but he wasn’t sure.

The footsteps stopped when they reached this floor. It was barely a moment of silence, but it felt like an eternity.

“Guys, it’s me.”

All four of them deflated with relief, but it was quickly over. They rose from behind the table, feeling a little stupid for the mess they made.

“Jordon, why are you here?” Jorel asked, hopping over the table to greet the other man. “You look like shit. Where’s Matt?”

Jordon looked at all of them, eyes bloodshot and filled with tears that wouldn’t spilled. He said nothing, just shook his head very lightly.

It was a simple motion, but each of them knew what it meant. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a hundred degrees.

“A-are you sure?” Dylan croaked, wrapping his arms around himself.

Again he said nothing, just nodded.

“What happened?” George’s voice was cold and harsh.

This time, Jordon shook his head. He looked so close to crying, Danny had to look away.

Jorel moved slowly towards Jordon, enveloping him a tight hug. Jordon’s arms quickly snapped to Jay’s shoulders, almost desperate. George and Dylan both joined the hug, sharing the pain and supporting each other.

Danny remained where he was, knowing that it wasn’t his place. He felt as if he were intruding on yet another moment he shouldn’t be witnessing.

“Are you tired? Can you sleep?” Dylan asked, separating from the group hug.

Jordon fished something out of his jeans pocket. It was a small box, the kind that have cheap meds in it. While he was busy unpackaging the little bottle in harsh, shaky motions, George went and got him a glass of water.

He quickly took two of the pills, drank the water, then headed for what Danny assumed was his room.

Dylan quickly shot a worried look at the rest of them. “I’ll go with him,” He said quietly before following Jordon up the stairs.

George moved over to the fallen table, and braced his hands on one side. “Danny, help me get this back up.”   
The blonde nodded, stepping ot the other side and helping the criminal lift the table back up. “Fuck,” Danny breathed as the table was set down properly. “This thing is heavy.”

“It’s not the first time we’ve had to flip it,” George muttered, so quietly it was almost inaudible. “So we got a heavy one. For cover.”

Jorel placed his hand on George’s shoulder gently. “I’m going to bed,” He mumbled.

“Okay.” George shot Danny a weird look that he couldn’t decipher. “Goodnight, Danny.”

“Oh, uh, goodnight, George. Goodnight Jay.”

“’Night.”

The two criminals slowly went upstairs, where Danny suspected they would be sharing a bed tonight. He couldn’t blame them; no one should be alone when grieving. He slightly wished he didn’t seem like such an outsider right now. He felt so awkward for not sharing the same reaction upon hearing about Matthew.

Of course, Danny was a little sad about it. Matthew was one of the nicer ones to him, when he first got here. But Danny didn’t really know much of anything about the curly-haired man.

Deciding he still was almost but not quite tired enough for sleep, even though he suspected it was around four in the morning, Danny started cleaning up the cards and beer bottles all over the floor.

But of course some of the beer bottles weren’t empty and the beer spilled onto the floor and Danny had to get a wet washcloth to clean it up so the floor wouldn’t be sticky because that’s how you get ants, you know. Clean your floors, kids.

Once that was done, Danny didn’t really know what to do with himself. He figured he might as well get some rest, considering who knows what the fuck the next few days will have in store for everyone.

Not wanting to sleep in his cell, Danny settled down on one of the couches. He could his exhaustion creeping up on him, lulling him into the land of slumber. His brain didn’t even put up a fight, either.

Still no dreams, though.


	14. Another Loss (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny is shown how the Undead say goodbye to one of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to go ahead and apologize here for this chapter; it's clunky, and not well-written, but I tried my best. I hope y'all enjoy nonetheless!

It had only been a little while later when something woke Danny up. For a moment, he forgot where he was. He stretched out along the couch, thinking about what time he should start his work tonight. Then he wondered what day it was. Then, he remembered where he was.

Too many emotions hit his brain with the realization of where he was that he ignored all of them, instead focusing on the footsteps that sounded as if they were climbing stairs.

A door opened, but it didn’t sound like one of the bedroom doors. It squeaked a shit load more.

Even though he kinda just wanted to go back to sleep, Danny decided to investigate. He carefully crept up the stairs, not wanting to wake any of the others. The only door that he didn’t recognize was right by the stairs; the other doors all led to the bedrooms or the bathroom.

Danny had assumed that this door was a closet, so when he opened it, he didn’t expect to be met with yet another staircase, though this was a bit smaller than the other. There was another door at the top, and when he opened it, he was now met with… the roof.

Black asphalt stretched pretty far in front of him, interrupted only by the frame of someone who was sitting on the edge, overlooking the view of the city. Even Danny had to admit that it was a gorgeous view, even at fuck o’clock in the morning.

“Dylan?” The person sitting turned around, and only then could Danny see it was Jordon. “You’re not Dylan.”

“No, I’m not.” Danny slowly made his way across the roof. “Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead. Blacktop’s a little cold.”

“Why are you up here?” Danny asked as he gingerly sat next to the criminal. He didn’t go as far as letting his legs dangle over the edge, mainly because he was a little fearful of such great heights combined with not having the best balance. So he just sat a little from the edge, crossing his legs like a child.

Jordon shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep, wanted some fresh air. Did I wake you?”

Danny shook his head. “No-” He was cut off by a yawn, betraying his lie.

“Sorry. I tried to be quiet, but that door is loud as shit.”

“Did those sleeping pills not work?” Danny presumed they were sleeping pills, at least.

“Not tonight, it seems.”

Danny nodded, fighting off another yawn.

“Matty used to come out here and look at the stars. The whole four you can see,” Jordon murmured, glanced up at the sky. He seemed like he was thousands of leagues away from the roof. “That was the one thing he hates… hated about the city, the light pollution. Sometimes, he would take one of the cars and just drive until he could see all of ‘em.”

Danny hummed, finding himself barely able to focus on what was being said. He was more than a little tired, but he didn’t want to fall asleep on the roof.

“He brought me once,” Jordon continued. “I brought some beers, we looked at the stars… it was nice.”

“Sounds nice,” Danny talked through another yawn. This one was so strong that it brought tears to his eyes. He hated those kinds of yawns.

“You falling asleep on me?” Jordon asked with a smirk.

“Not at all, nope.”

“Yes you are. Come here,” Jordon raised an arm with a tired smile.

Danny shrugged, and scooted over a little so he could lean his head on Jordon’s shoulder, taking in the warmth of another person. He felt the other man rest his arm along his side.

The two of them fell into a soft silence. Danny fought against falling asleep, even though the warmth of another body against his was a strong warrior in the battle of slumber. He did his best to contain another yawn, but it escaped, drawing Jordon’s attention from the view back to him.

“You can go to sleep, you know. I’m not going to pitch myself over the edge or something as soon you’re unconscious.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” Danny mumbled. He wasn’t, too. Well… not entirely. He was more worried about Jay doing something drastic. Wait, was he actually _worried_ about these people?

Fuck.

“Matty believed in aliens, you know.”

Danny did not know, so he just stayed quiet. He didn’t say anything about the randomness of that statement, because he figured it would be good for Jordon to talk. Talking through anything with another person was so much better than going through it alone. Danny tried not to think about how alone he’d been for so much of his life.

“He kept telling us that when humans were at peace was when the aliens would drop down and introduce themselves. That’s what he used to justify their lack of presence so far. Because the peace was never there.” Jordon’s voice had grown somber, but no less soothing. Like a lullaby.

Danny was really struggling with not falling asleep.

“He’s… was such a nice guy. He deserved better than the Undead.”

At that, Danny spoke up. “He had five friends to always back him up. That’s better than what most have.”

Jordon scoffed. “One of his ‘friends’ killed him,’ he whispered, colder than Danny had thought was humanly possible.

Danny couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so another silence entered the stage. This one was significantly less comfortable, though.

Jordon sighed, a long and heavy sigh. “You don’t need to be bothered by all my shit. Just go to sleep, baby, okay?”

Danny didn’t even want to fight against the command; he just snuggled further into the criminal’s side (still cuddling a fucking criminal on the roof of his home base, nothing fucked about that) and he let the gorgeous view of the city disappear as he closed his eyes.

He fell asleep very quickly after that.

  


Danny woke up the next morning in a bed, covered with a soft, fluffy blanket. He knew this blanket – it was Jordon’s. He stretched out a little, only to freeze when he realized he wasn’t alone.

He snapped his head to the side, and was met with… Dylan?

Yep, that was definitely Dylan, sleeping next to him, in Jordon’s room.

Deciding that he didn’t want to know all the context for this situation, mainly because he didn’t care, he eased out of the bed and headed downstairs. He didn’t know what time it was, but he heard voices downstairs, so he wasn’t the first to wake up today. Or ever. He had serious questions about the sleeping habits of these people.

Following the voices led Danny into the kitchen, where everyone but Dylan were congregated. There was also the heavenly scent of coffee floating throughout the kitchen. Danny couldn’t remember the last time he had proper coffee.

“Mornin’,” George greeted him, raising a mug to him. “Want coffee? Do you drink coffee?”

“Oh my God, I would love some,” Danny said before he could help himself.

Jorel grinned as he poured some into a plain black mug, then handed it to the blonde. “You put anything in it?”

“Nah, not anymore.” Danny didn’t bother waiting for it to cool down before he took a sip. Even though it was still a bitter, scalding beverage, it was still the best damn thing he’d tasted in a while. God he loved coffee.

Barely a moment later, Dylan could be hear coming down the stairs. Once he was in the kitchen with his own coffee did Jorel step forward and clear his throat.

“Once the sun is down, we’ll head for the field and… you know.”

Danny was completely confused, but the others seemed to understand exactly what Jorel meant, so he said nothing.

Dylan and Jordon silently left, heading back up the stairs. Jorel lingered a moment, then went the same way.

Being left alone with George wasn’t an ideal situation, but Danny was well past caring.

“Can I ask you something?”

George nodded, taking another sip of coffee. “I might not answer, but you can ask.”

“What’s happening after sundown?”

The criminal sighed, making Danny immediately regret his question. “Matt’s...”

“Oh.” Danny definitely regretted his question. Way to go, Dan. Couldn’t have picked a worse conversation topic in the morning, huh?

“Yeah.” On that note, George left, leaving Danny to try and figure how out how the fuck he was going to spend this very uncomfortable day.

In the end, he spent it the same way he’d been spending the past couple days. By being a maid. Running food and drinks around when needed, doing fuck all else when not.

At some point, when bringing a sandwich to Jorel, Danny noticed how much grosser the criminal’s room had gotten since whenever he had been forced to clean it.

George didn’t seem to mind the mess, as he just stuck to sitting on Jorel’s bed, either working on his laptop, writing in some worn-down journal, or reading some ancient-looking book.

Unable to stand the mess and feeling a constant need to just do _something_ , Danny had started to clean Jorel’s room. But this time, on his own accord. Jay didn’t seem to mind, sitting at his desk the entire time. Danny had absolutely no idea how one person could stand to sit still for so long.

At one point during the day, when George was reading his ancient-looking book, Danny had asked what it was.

“An epic poem from the 17th century,” George said, showing Danny the uninteresting cover.

“He calls it ‘light reading’,” Jorel added with more than a hint of sarcasm.

“It is light when you’ve read it a billion times.”

“’Cause you have no life, you hermit.”

“Says you, shithead.”

“Assface.”

Danny didn’t say anything during the war of childish insults. He was just glad that it seemed to put the two criminals in a bit of a better mood. If only a little bit.

Later on, Danny noticed that George had taken out a journal with a ragged cover, and kept it propped on his lap so that only he could see what was inside it.

When Danny asked what he was writing, George merely replied that it was confidential. So clearly personal, and not gang-related. Interesting.

Slowly but surely, the hours trickled by like sap from a broken tree branch. Somewhere along the line, Danny thought he heard Dylan and Jordon leave the house, though he had no idea why. They returned about an hour or so later, so he just ignored it.

By the end of the day, Danny still wasn’t satisfied with the state of Jorel’s room – the floor was stained in a bunch of places, and not to mention sticky from spilled liquor, and there were about eight thousand loads of laundry to be cleaned – but he didn’t have any more time to work on it tonight.

There had been a soft knock on the door. Jorel shot a meaningful glance at George, then went to open the door.

Jordon stood in the hallway, Dylan behind him, looking as if he had aged ten years within a single day. “It’s time.”

It was George who finally spoke up after a tense silence. “Okay.”

Without another word, the four criminals all headed downstairs. Danny awkwardly trailed behind, unsure of whether or not he would be going with them to what he assumed could only be a funeral of sorts for Matthew. He still held out a tiny bit of hope that maybe this was just another party or something, even though he knew that was ludicrous.

They all went down into the garage, where there was now a black van that definitely hadn’t been there either time that Danny had been there.

“Is everything ready?” Jorel asked, eyeing the van with a sort of unease that made Danny want to give him a hug.

_A hug? Really, Daniel, really?_

On second thought, that didn’t sound like such a horrible idea. Danny shook his head to dispel the thoughts, given that this wasn’t the time nor place to be thinking of giving a criminal a hug.

“Yeah, Jordy and I got everything we need,” Dylan answered in a monotone voice. He held up a set of car keys in his hand, dangling them just enough to make them jingle a little. “Who’s driving?”

“I will,” George volunteered.

Dylan tossed him the keys, then got in the van. George followed, then Jorel, leaving Danny and Jordon.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Jordon murmured, keeping his gaze on the floor. “He wasn’t your brother, you have no obligation or anything-”   
“I’ll go,” Danny interrupted. “if you want me there, that is. Or at least, don’t mind me being there.”

Jordon smiled; it was clearly a pained smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Danny smiled back, and nodded. “Let’s go.”

He followed Jordon into the van, and was met with a series of approving glances from the rest of the gang.

Truthfully, Danny didn’t really want to go for Matthew’s sake. For some reason that he couldn’t ignore for one fucking reason or another, he wanted to go to support the other four. Jordon, George, Dylan, Jorel – the four men who were going through so much shit that they should have as much support as was humanly possible.

God, he was going soft on these men.

Oh well. Nothing he could do about it now, right?

“The drive’s gonna be a couple hours,” Jordon told him as he sat in the back row of seats. “So settle in.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

George looked at Danny through the rear-view mirror with the barest smile Danny had ever seen. “Thanks for coming, Dan.”

“Stop eye-fucking him and pay attention to the road,” Jorel lightly shoved his shoulder.

“You’re no fun.” George still did as he was told, and went back to looking at the road. After turning on the radio, and carefully tuning it to the first rock station he could find.

The drive was silent; the air felt so heavy that just breathing felt labored. Danny wanted to turn the music up so loud that he wouldn’t be able to hear himself think, but alas, he was in the back seat and didn’t want to break the silence with a stupid request.

So he chose to observe.

George’s hands on the wheel were tense and unmoving. His movements were jerky, which does not bode well for driving. Danny was almost surprised the wheels of the van weren’t squeaking on the road every time George jerked the wheel to keep in the lane.

Jorel was completely still. One of his elbows was resting on the arm rest, while the other was propped up on the car door. His window was cracked enough so his hand could grip the roof of the car; he was in a chill, relaxed posture but he looked so stiff he might as well have been a wax figure.

Dylan’s leg was bouncing constantly; his head was leaned back on the seat, and Danny suspected his eyes are closed.

Jordon wouldn’t stop picking at his cuticles, even though Danny could tell he was bleeding.

And for some reason that no one in the entire universe could coerce Danny into acknowledging and accepting, he wanted to comfort these men. He wanted to give them a hug, wrap them in a blanket, and watch a good, heartwarming movie with them.

But he couldn’t, so he just turned his attention to the window for the rest of the drive.

When the van finally pulled to a stop, Danny was itching to get out and walk around. He had absolutely no clue as to where they ended up; all he knew was that they drove over a dirt road for a while to get to this place.

“We’re here,” George said as he turned the car off.

Everyone silently piled out of the van; Danny was last. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he was hit with a gust of clean air. Not just fresh, but _clean_. He looked around, and was surprised to find that they were no where near a city.

They were in the middle of a field. Surrounded by what had to be a straight mile of grass in every direction.

Unable to resist, Danny looked to the sky; it was just covered in sparkling stars. Thousands of them, twinkling bright and happy, untouched of the darkness of the world they shined their light on.

Danny had to look away.

“Dan, help us with this,” Jorel called out from the back of the van.

The back doors were wide open, and the four men were crowded around the van.

“Firewood?” Danny asked, watching as Jordon and Dylan began unloading bundles of it, two or three at a time.

“Yes, firewood. Now start helping.”

George thumped Jorel on the back of his head.

“ _Please_ start helping.”

“Sure.” As soon as Danny said that, Jordon plopped two plastic-wrapped bundles of wood into his arms. Definitely the store-bought kind.

He brought it over to where a pile had been started. George and Jorel brought over three backpacks, and set them next to the firewood.

“Can I ask where we are?” Danny placed another two bundles on the pile.

“A piece of land we bought through a number of aliases,” George answered him. “We figured we’d need somewhere to bury things. We ended up using it for... other things.”

Once the van was emptied, Jorel and Jordon began unwrapping some of the bundles and piling the wood into a sort of pyramid shape.

They unwrapped half the bundles while George sifted through one of the backpacks, eventually fishing out a bottle of lighting fluid and a small box of matches.

It didn’t take very long for them to light a roaring fire. Danny briefly wondered how rehearsed this whole ritual was.

“Danny, c’mere,” Jordon gently took the blonde’s hand in his, and led him over to the backpacks.

He opened one, and pulled out two bottles of whiskey. He handed them to Danny, saying “Everyone gets a bottle.”

Danny brought the two bottles to Jorel and George, who took them with solemn yet appreciative smiles.

Jordon had given a bottle to Dylan, then handed one to Danny, then sat down on the ground facing the fire. Dylan dragged over the third backpack, then sat down next to Jordon.

Jorel and George sat down next, leaving Danny standing. He didn’t know if he should sit too; he didn’t know if he was brought here to be a part of this whole situation, or if he was just a helping hand. He hoped the former.

Jordon pat the grass next to him, an empty space in the circle of criminals. “You can sit,” He said softly.

Danny looked to the circle, but all he saw were encouraging smiles, so he sat on the ground, completing the circle.

From the backpack, Dylan withdrew a pack of cigarettes and small red lighter. He took a smoke for himself, then passed the pack around. Everyone took a cigarette without saying a word.

Danny sipped his whiskey, happy to be drinking, even if it was for the completely wrong reason. He forgot how nice just straight whiskey tasted. He watched as Dylan continued taking things out of the backpack, and passing them around the circle. There was a very old-looking teddy bear, a few photos, a t-shirt, and a small journal. Everybody but Danny got something, but he didn’t mind; it wasn’t really his place.

Jorel ended up with the shirt, and twisted it tightly as he looked around the circle. “Who wants to go first?” He asked, his voice sounding tighter than the wrung shirt in his hands.

George took a deep breath, and stood up. He was holding the little journal, gripping it so harshly that his knuckles were white.

“You deserved better, Matthew,” George said, shaking his head as he glanced up at the stars. “We didn’t treat you well. You could’ve done so much more, but we held you back. It seemed the only the place you could flourish or whatever was in the kitchen.”

He looked to the journal in his hands. “I can’t even count how many times you would drag me to the kitchen because you were experimenting and wanted me to try whatever hellish concoction you made up. I’m gonna miss you, man. We all are.”

Without another word, George tossed the journal into the fire, sat down, and took very large gulps of whiskey.

Jorel stood up next, holding the t-shirt very close to his chest. “I… you were always super supportive of all of us. When we finally decided on our branding, you fucking put it on this shirt, and you were so excited about it. You looked like the biggest dork whenever you wore this shirt, which was a lot. We’re going to miss that.”

He tossed the shirt into the fire, covering the smoldering journal, then sat down.

Dylan stood next, holding the photos. “I remember when we first met; we fuckin hated each other, for no reason. Weird how much shit has changed, huh? When we hung out at your place, your mom would always try and take pictures of us, and you hated it so much. Your face would get all red, and I would just laugh. Good times.”

He tossed the photos into the fire, then sat down.

Jordon stood, cradling the teddy bear as if it were an infant. He looked so close to tears that Danny had to look away.

“Fucking hell, man. I… I don’t know. You were my fucking brother, and… it should’ve been me. It shouldn’t have been you in that motel room. You were an amazing brother. You did so much for me, and all I did for you was win you this stupid fucking bear from a claw machine.”

Danny could tell that everyone else disagreed; Dylan looked as if he were about to jump up and start fighting Jordon’s self-hatred. George looked like he was impressed that Jordon had managed to win anything from a claw machine. Jorel just looked indifferent.

“I hope that you’re at least at peace or some shit in whatever afterlife you’re in.”Jordon’s voice cracked, and the tears started falling. He all but threw the teddy bear into the fire before collapsing onto the ground.

Dylan brought Jordon into a hug, letting him cry silently on his shoulder.

Jorel stood again, this time raising his bottle of whiskey. He looked around the circle with an exhausted sort of confidence; in that moment, he looked as if he were hundreds of years old, and simply tired of living. Yet he pressed on, for the glory of his brothers.

“Deuce fucked up,” He said simply. “Because we’re never going to stop, not now, not until he’s six feet in the ground. We won’t let him get away with this. I know I’m willing to spend every last hour I have in this life, and every last goddamn cent I could ever earn, if it means that we put him the fuck down like the dog he is. Am I alone?”

A chorus of broken “no’s” sounded from the circle.

“We’re the motherfucking Undead! We won’t let that bastard get away with killing one of us!”

“Undead until the day we die,” George muttered.

“So when we die, you know we’re living,” Dylan said with such an ease that Danny wondered if that was their slogan.

Jordon looked up from Dylan’s shoulder, eyes red and bloodshot. He raised his head to the stars, and grabbed his whiskey. In a single, smooth motion, he poured out a few shots’ worth onto the ground.

“Matthew Alexis Busek, you will not be forgotten,” He murmured.

“We will avenge you if it’s the last goddamn thing we do,” Jorel stated with such certainty that Danny almost felt bad for Deuce.

Except nothing could ever make Danny feel bad for Deuce. That weasel deserved every bit of Hell that was coming for him.

 

The drive back to the house was quiet. Jordon sat in the back with Danny, so he could lay on the seat and rest his head on Danny’s lap.

Danny didn’t mind. He could practically feel the exhaustion radiating from Jordon; he just ran his fingers through the criminal’s soft brown hair, hoping that this whole shitty situation would be over soon.

He just wanted these four men to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter might be a while, as I'm going out of town again and won't have a chance to write anything, so more apologies for that.


	15. Seeking Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Undead need help. With a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I hope that a bit of a longer chapter will make up for it.  
> Be warned, though. It's mostly dialogue. Like, a lot of dialogue.

It was only a few days before the Undead were back to work. It seemed too rushed, but they were adamant.

Jorel seemed to be growing into his role as the new leader, at least as far as Danny could tell. Of course, it very well might’ve been a facade. People could be amazing actors when they had no other option.

But now, as Jorel led a meeting in the dining room, Danny would’ve been proud to call him his leader. Although that was assuming that Danny was on one of the Undead. Which he wasn’t, and probably never would be.

But he digresses.

“We need to get more eyes and ears out onto the field,” Jorel stated, standing at the head of the dining table while the others were all seated. “And we can’t do that ourselves, so who can we rely on?”

“There’s the Shadows to the south, that one minuscule operation we absorbed a couple years ago,” George said, leaning back in his chair.

“There’s Vanessa, she and Asia could prove useful and they don’t hate us,” Charlie added.

“The usual middlemen we have along our supply route,” Dylan said, glaring at the table in thought.

Even though he didn’t really mean to, Danny suddenly got what he thought was a very good idea to help these men. As to why he wanted to help these men, he had no fucking clue. But he did, and he thought he had a plan that could help.

Apparently, Jordon could tell. “What is it, Dan?”

“What about the Thieves?” Danny said, trying not to sound like a child attempting to make their over-bearing parent happy.

George all but scoffed. “They hate us-”

“But if you point out that it’d be in their best interest to cut out a rival now, they might, at the very least, be willing to provide information whenever they find it.”

“It could work,” Dylan admitted. “They have a huge network all over L.A.”

“But what if they won’t work with us?” Jordon countered. “We’ve all tried to kill them.”

“We could bribe them.”

“I swear to Christ, if you say to give more flowers-”

“No, idiot!”

“Enough!” Jorel slammed his hand on the table, effectively silencing the two bickering criminals. “It’s the only lead we’ve got that could make a difference, so we’re going to fucking take it. In case we do have to bribe them, what should we give them?”

“Profits from our goods for two weeks,” George offered. “And we casually make those the worst two weeks of sales we’ve ever had.”

Danny shook his head, mostly to himself but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“And why not?”

“If you want them to keep helping you, you can’t shortcut them.”

“He’s right,” Jorel said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Are we agreed on going to the Thieves, Vanessa, and the Shadows?”

A chorus of yes’s answered the leader.

“Awesome. Dylan and George, you go to the Shadows. Charlie and Danny, you go to Vanessa. I’ll go the Thieves.”

“No.” George stood from the table, meeting Jorel’s glare head on. “No one goes anywhere alone, not now.”

“I agree. Danny and I can talk to the Thieves too, it’s no problem.” Jordon stood as well, pressing his hands flat to the table.

Jorel nodded. “Fine, yes. Just get your asses in gear.”

  


Jordon ended up wanting to take his Miada, and since he was driving, Danny couldn’t object. Not that he wanted to. The car was gorgeous, and super clean. Very much unlike Jordon’s bedroom. The dichotomy was almost unreal.

“We’re stopping at Vanessa’s first,” Jordon said as they drove along the busy streets of Los Angeles. “If there’s any gossip or whatever that could be useful, she’ll know.”

Danny nodded, watching the buildings and cars pass by. “What, uh, what does she do?”

“She’s a thief, and the owner of a company that makes horror-themed bath products. She can be pretty fuckin’ weird at times, but she’s also an amazing person. She totally had a crush on Jay for a long ass time, but I think she’s getting past that.”

“I’m guessing Jay didn’t like her?”

“It’s not that he didn’t _like_ her, it’s just… he was hung up on Deuce for too long. He didn’t really consider anyone else, if that makes sense.”

“And you’ll think she’ll be able to help us?”

“She has her contacts, and a… let’s call it natural urge to gossip. She’ll have information that we can use. Either to help us get Deuce or to blackmail the Thieves.”

“Why isn’t she part of the Thieves if she’s a thief?”

Jordon chuckled. “Trying to tie her down to a single group is like trying hold water with your bare hands. It ain’t gonna happen. She and Asia have been partners for as long as I can remember, and that’s the closest she’s come to being part of any type of organization.”

Danny hummed, not really focusing on Jordon anymore. He was thinking about the party he and Jordon had gone to, at the Thieves; mansion. Danny could remember it like it happened yesterday, yet it felt as if it happen a thousand years ago.

Vanessa and Asia seemed nice. The head of the Thieves, Teddy, seemed like a nightmare of a man to deal with.

Danny can’t help but to remember the dance he had shared with Jordon. How nice it felt.

And especially what happened when they had gotten home…

Danny shook his head to clear the thoughts, forcing himself to return to the present. “Doesn’t Vanessa think we’re dating?” He asked, wondering if they were still keeping up that charade. He didn’t find the idea repulsive.

“A little, yeah.”

“I would say more than a little.”

“It’s whatever, man. We’re here.” Jordon pulled the car up in front of a line of stores, parking in front of a small store painted dark purple.

“Porcelain Wolf?” Danny read the sign with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t question it, baby, you’ll get nowhere real fast.” Jordon exited the car, leaving Danny scrambling to keep up.

When the door to the store opening, a creepy laugh sounded throughout the store. Danny tensed, eyeing the shelves of bath products with distrust. The scent of coffee permeated throughout the store.

Jordon noticed. “It’s just the little door thing, instead of a bell, you know?”

“Yes, I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Hiya, welcome to Porcelain Wo-” Vanessa called out, appearing from a back room of some sort. She paused when she realized who was in her store, then nearly ran from behind the store counter over to the two men. “Charlie, oh my god, are you okay?”

She engulfed him into a bone-crushing hug, paying very little attention to Danny.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Charlie said, returning her hug with noticeably less zeal.

Vanessa pulled away, with a look of worry so fierce that Danny wondered if people called her “momma bear”.

“I heard what happened,” She said, flicking her gaze to the windows. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Charlie smiled, a small and forced smile. “Can we talk in the backroom? Is Asia here?”

Vanessa shook her head. “She’s sick, but we can talk. You go to the backroom, make yourself comfy; I’ll lock up the store.”  
“Okay,” Charlie took Danny’s hand, and led him to the back of the store.

They entered a room with dark red walls, a black velvet couch, a desk completely covered in papers and a few knickknacks, and purple fairy lights strung along the walls.

They both sat down on the couch, and waited. A few moments later, Vanessa entered the room with three black mugs of coffee; she handed both men one, then sat on her desk.

“Thanks,” Charlie said, holding his mug carefully with both hands. His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing.

“No problem,” Vanessa smiled. “How are you holding up?”

Jordon shrugged. “I’ve been better.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Vanessa looked like she wanted to give him another bear hug, but restrained herself.

“How much do you know?” Jordon asked, running his finger along the rim of his mug.

Vanessa shook her head. “The news is calling it gang warfare. According to them, another member of the Undead killed Kurlzz.”

“How did they identify him? Our room was blown to pieces.”

“His wallet was in the room safe.”

Jordon scoffed, and leaned his head back on the couch. “It was fucking planted there, we didn’t use that safe.”

Danny reached his hand over, placing it gently on Jordon’s wrist, to try and comfort him.

Jordon gave him a bare smile.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s the truth? What really happened?” Vanessa asked softly.

“Deuce left us. He robbed us, and got himself a new crew. He was spotted a few hours away, so Kurlzz and I went to check it out. Kurlzz didn’t make it back.”

“Oh, honey.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep everything all business right now,” Jordon sat up a little straighter, putting on his business face.

It reminded Danny of Jorel, the way he could just clear his face of all emotions in a single second.

“Of course.” Vanessa set her mug onto her desk, then clasped her hands together in her lap. “How can I help?”

“We can’t really leave our safe-house too much, so you gotta be our eyes out here. Get in touch with every contact you can trust, and keep an eye out for Deuce and this guy Truth. There have to be more to his crew, but we don’t know of any.”

“Truth...” Vanessa echoed, drumming her long nails on her thigh. “I’ve heard that name before, I swear.”

“Do you remember where?” Jordon almost jumped out of his seat, but Danny tightened his grip on his arm, keeping him seated on the couch.

Vanessa shook her head with a frown. “Sorry, I don’t. If I do remember, I’ll call you, but until then, I’ll talk to my contacts, and get a search going. Is there anything else you need?”

“You’re doing all you can, we don’t wanna pile everything on you. We’re going to talk to the Thieves later, ask them for help.”

“The Thieves?” Vanessa scrunched her nose up in disgust. “Why them?”

“They’re the best bet we got.” Jordon didn’t sound any more pleased about it.

Vanessa sighed. “Then you might wanna know that the coast ain’t doing so well for them. Someone else is picking up business there, and it’s cutting into their profits.”

“Do you think it’s Deuce?” Jordon sat up a little on the couch.

Vanessa merely shrugged. “I don’t know. Could be, or could just be some other sap who doesn’t know whose money they’re stealing.”

“Alright, well, thank you.” Jordon stood up, as did Vanessa, and gave her a hug. “We appreciate everything you do for us.”

“Of course,” She pat his back, then pulled away. “Take care of yourself, alright, Charlie?”

“I’ll try my best.”

Vanessa then turned to Danny, and also gave him a very tight hug, much to his surprise.

“Take care of them,” She whispered. “Please.”

“I will,” Danny promised. He intended to keep that promise, too.

  


When Jordon and Danny got back into the car, Danny took this time to zone the fuck out of reality. His mind was a thousand leagues away, thinking of anything and everything that didn’t pertain to his current situation.

A particular thought he couldn’t shake was why do dogs lie down with their legs spread out like a frog, but others don’t. It seems like something they should be able to do, but some don’t. Or can’t. It’s weird.

Danny was pulled back to reality by the car stopping; when he got out of the car, he didn’t expect to be back in the garage of the house.

“Why are we home?” Danny asked as he followed the criminal back into the house.

“You can’t go to the Thieves with your hair looking worse than the lawn of a house that’s been haunted for the last eight centuries,” Jordon said as casually as one would discuss the weather.

Danny went to disagree, only to realize that his hair was quite the mess. “Hurtful, but true.”

“I know. Dylan’s gonna cut your hair and bleach it again if you want.”

“Dylan?”

“Yes, Dylan. He’s going to cut your hair, he knows how to do it and everything.”

Danny was still skeptical, but didn’t really see another choice for him here. “Why does he know how to do it?”

Jordon huffed. “We aren’t exactly the kind of people who can just go to a hairdresser in the middle of L.A., are we?”

“I guess not.”

After a quick lunch of leftover Chinese takeout, Dylan took Danny to the bathroom, where he had already set up a towel covering the floor, a comb, and an unnecessarily large pair of scissors.

Danny sat on the toilet – the lid was down, and another towel was on top of it – andd Dylan slung yet another towel over his shoulders.

“Alright, what’re you thinking?” Dylan asked, studying Danny’s hair from several different angles.

“I guess just a trim.”

“You guess?”

“I’m not really… super versed in hair speak. Could you cut it the way I used to have it, before...”

Dylan nodded, a grim smile on his face. “Yeah, totally. One Alvarez special coming up, homie.”

After about ten minutes of working on Danny’s hair, Dylan began to move a little slower, as if his mind were elsewhere.

When Danny looked up with a questioning gaze, Dylan just shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ve just got a lot of my mind.”

“Don’t we all,” Danny murmured, fiddling with the fraying hem of his shirt as he was watched cut strands of hair falling onto the floor around him.

“We’re gonna get through this,” Dylan reassured, although he didn’t sound too certain.

Danny nodded, but not too much so he didn’t mess up the criminal who was currently very close to his head with very large scissors. “You are. You’re all… tough and resilient, I guess.”

He didn’t know where this sudden conversation came from; it seemed random, yet not. As if it were constantly hanging above their heads, threatening to be spoken into reality at any moment. Danny had hoped that this conversation would be content with just hiding in the shadows. But it wasn’t, and probably never would be.

“I have doubts,” Dylan admitted. “but as a group, we’ll get through this.”

“You will.”

“ _We_ will.”

“We?”

Dylan breathlessly chuckled as he focused on a particularly uneven lock of hair. “Yes, angel. We. As in you too.”

Danny found himself not hating the idea of being Dylan’s angel. Just like he was Jorel’s kitten. And Jordon’s baby. And George’s lion.

He detested the idea of being Deuce’s babe, however.

The two men fell into a comfortable silence for however much longer it took for Dylan to cut Danny’s hair to his satisfaction.

Once he was finished, he let Danny look in the mirror.

“Holy shit,” Danny muttered, staring at his hair with mixed emotions. “You did an amazing job.” His hair was neat and trim, and looked very nice. However, the blonde had grown out so it looked like he had frosted tips. He kind of hated it.

Wait, no, scratch that. Danny _really_ hated having frosted tips.

“We can bleach it if you want,” Dylan said as he began carefully picking up the several towels.

“I’d- yeah, that would be, um, preferable.” Danny vigorously nodded his head as he stared at his hair.

“Wanna do it now?”

“Yes, please.”

“You don’t have to say please,” Dylan said with a smirk. “We aren’t that formal, not here.”

“Oh, okay.” Danny managed a small smile.

“Alright, let’s bleach that fucking hair of yours.”

A little less than an hour later, Danny’s hair was fully blonde once again. He carefully styled it, then went to go find Jordon.

Said man was in the living room with George and Jorel, discussing something that was probably important, but the conversation stopped when Danny entered the room.

All eyes were on him, in a way that Danny hadn’t realized he kinda of missed. He liked being the center of attention, when it was a good way, and not in a creepy or potentially harmful kind of way.

“Blonde suits you,” Jorel said simply. “You look good.”

“It definitely looks better,” George said. “Dylan did a good ass job.”

Jordon hopped up from the couch. “That he did. You look ready for a meeting with Theodore.”

“Be careful,” Jorel warned. “And only offer him what we agreed on.”

“Don’t die,” George added.

“We won’t,” Jordon promised, taking Danny’s arm and leading him back to the garage. “Probably.”

Danny didn’t speak the entire drive through the city. His nervous laughter kept threatening to surface. He hated his nervous laughter; it sounded pitiful.

He almost broke into giggles when the car pulled up onto the hill with the mansion.

“Before we go in,” Jordon turned off the car, and reached into the backseat. He brought out a familiar-looking black shoe box, and set it in the blonde’s lap. “Here.”

Danny opened the box, and found the golden mask he wore to the party. He carefully ran his fingers over the cross; a surge of flashbacks swam before his eyes from that night. Some were good, and some were bad. He looked back to Jordon, who was now wearing his bandanna and sunglasses.

“Go on, baby. Put it on.”

Danny did as he was told, and slipped the mask on. It felt just as comfortable as he remembered; it felt more than comfortable to wear it. It felt _right_.

“You look ready to take over the damn world,” Jordon said, sounding proud. “Let’s do this.”

 

A servant led Jordon and Danny up to the same office from that night. And just like that night, Jordon was holding Danny’s hand, his thumb rubbing little circles around Danny’s knuckles.

Jordon took a deep breath, then knocked on the office door.

“Come in,” A familiar and still intimidating voice called out.

The two men entered the office, which hadn’t changed a bit.

Theodore was sitting in his leather chair behind his large desk, wearing the same gothic-style mask that Danny would’ve been alright with never seeing again in his life.

“Charlie Scene and his boyfriend Danny,” Theodore greeted, sitting up straight and leaning his elbows on his desk.

“Hello, Teddy,” Jordon spoke casually, but Danny could sense his anxiety. He held the criminal’s hand a little tighter.

“Why are you here?” Theodore asked, sounding as if he weren’t in the mood for tea and chitchat.

“We’re here about Deuce,” Jordon said, fighting himself to keep his voice steady. “He’s defected, and we need help tracking him down.”

Theodore smirked. “The Undead need help finding one of their own? Well there’s something I never thought I’d hear.” He leaned back in seat, looking extremely pleased with himself. “And why should I spend my time, money, and workforce helping your pathetic organization maintain itself? You forget, you’re still my competition.”

“Deuce will be your competition as well,” Jordon pointed out. “You’re already feeling the effects of him having split. I heard about the coast, that business there isn’t as good as it should be. Who’s to say that that isn’t Deuce, already picking up the scraps?”

Theodore considered this for a moment. He looked at Danny, who fought to not cower away from his gaze. He then looked to Jordon, who stood still as a statue. Then, he said, “What are you asking from me?”

Danny could practically feel the relief radiating from Jordon.

“Scouts, and any information they gather.”

“And in return?”

“All the profits that come from two week’s of selling our best product.”

“It’s a deal, Scene.” Theodore stood up, and held out a hand.

Jordon shook it, hiding a smile under his bandanna.

  


Back at the car, Jordon’s relief and his excitement were unable to be contained. He let out a rather loud whoop, startling Danny next to him.

“We did it!” Jordon shouted, yanking his bandanna so it hung around his neck.

His joy was infecting Danny; he was smiling now too as he took off his own mask. “You did it, man. You fuckin’ did it.”

“No, _we_ did it!” Jordon took Danny’s hands in his, pulling him close. “You and I got help from the most stuck-up douchebag in California!”

Danny chuckled, letting his own arms rest around Jordon’s shoulders. He was unaware of how close they were; he found himself looking into Jordon’s sparkling blue eyes, unable to break his gaze.

Jordon flicked his eyes down to Danny’s lips, silently asking permission.

Danny answered by leaning forward, connecting their lips for a gentle kiss.

Jordon broke the kiss first, but that moment of space between them gave Danny the chance he needed to clear his head.

“We should head back,” Danny said, stepping out of Jordon’s grasp and towards the car. “You need to tell your brothers that you got what you needed.”

Jordon wilted, but nodded. “You’re right.”

The drive back to the house was completely silent. When they got back, Danny hopped out of the car before it was even fully parked, and headed straight for his metal cell.

He hated that cell, more than just about anything. But he needed to be alone right now, and this was his only option.

Danny paced around the metal room, going in circles both literally and figuratively. He couldn’t understand why he kissed Jordon, nor he couldn’t understand how he felt about it now.

He wanted for the kiss to have never happened. Jordon was a criminal, and one of his fucking kidnappers. Not the kind of person you’re supposed to want to kiss.

But he also wanted for the kiss to have never ended. Looking back, Danny couldn’t deny that it felt good. Being held in Jordon’s arms felt good.

Hell, just _being around_ Jordon felt good. But it wasn’t supposed to be. None of this was supposed to fucking happen.

Danny raked his hands through his hair, leaning heavily against the cold wall. He sank to the floor, hoping the cold would whisk away the fog in his head, providing him with a clear train of thought he could follow.

But no such thing happened. Danny was left with a war in his head, and no end in sight.

  


Jordon trudged inside after Danny fled, his head hung low and his feet dragging against the floor. He passed the metal cell where Danny was hiding, and resisted the urge to open the door and try and talk to him. He just kept walking. Like a goddamn coward.

He went upstairs, intent on finding Jorel. Apparently, Jorel did not want to be found.

Jordon checked everywhere for him, even the roof. But it wasn’t until Jordon passed by the bedrooms on the third floor that he heard something that sounded distinctly like papers flying and muffled cursing.

Jordon carefully eased open the door to the bedroom that he hadn’t bothered to go near for weeks, and was met with Jorel sending papers flying and cursing.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jordon asked rather loudly, stepping further into the room with his arms raised in a defensive pose.

Jorel noticed he wasn’t alone, and stopped throwing papers. He took a deep breath, sat down on the desk, and looked at Jordon with a tired glare. “Seeing what he left us. Any clue as to where the fuck he is, or even any crucial shit that he didn’t fucking steal from us.”

“It looks like a fucking tornado hit here.” Jordon’s eyes roamed the paper covered floor. The bookshelf in the corner didn’t have anything on the shelves; its contents were everywhere else.

“I’ve been in here for a while.”

“Where are George and Dylan?”

“They went to the store. There’s nothing to eat here.”

Jordon hummed. “We got the help from the Thieves, by the way.”

Jorel cocked his head. “That’s good news, why do you look like shit?”

“I think… I think I’m doing the one thing they always say to never do.” Jordon walked over to the bed, and let himself fall onto it with a heavy sigh.

“That could literally mean anything we do, you have to specify.”

Jordon covered his face with his arms. “I think I’m falling in love with a hooker.”

“Wait, Danny?”

“No, Sapphire, yes Danny.”

Jorel huffed. “That’s great, why are you sad?”

“Because there’s no way in hell he would ever love or even like me back.” Jordon spoke with such certainty that Jorel wanted to smack him.

“You don’t know that!” Jorel protested, standing from the desk.

“He can’t like us, not after what’s happened.”

“Dude, we’re way past that. He saved my fucking life; I think he at least likes us a little.”

Jordon shook his head. “He might just be waiting for a chance to kill us.”

“If he wanted us dead, we’d be dead. Where is he now?”

Jordon threw his hands up into the air. “Hiding away in his fucking cell. He hates me so much that he’s in his metal fucking cell.”

Jorel grimaced. “We really should give him his own room.”

At that, Jordon sat back up with a raised eyebrow. “The only free rooms were this one, and Matthew’s. I don’t want him to think he’s… some kind of replacement or something.”

“But he also can’t live in a cell, sleep on the couches, or continually share a bed with one of us. He deserves his own goddamn room.”

Jordon nodded in resignation.

Jorel took a deep breath, glancing over to his door. “Let’s give him Matty’s old room. We can move his clothes there, and maybe get him some new furniture or something. Whatever he wants. He’ll also be super close to you, man.”

“I appreciate it.” The sarcasm in Jordon’s voice was clearer than fucking glass.

“Great. You can go tell him.”

Jordon groaned. “I don’t wanna.”

“Tough shit. Go find him, tell him he has a room, and maybe talk shit out. You might find that he’s willing to give you a chance.”

Jordon sighed, with a dreamy look casting his eyes miles away. “A man can dream.” And so, he left the room, already knowing that he would never willing talk to Danny about his feelings, because who honestly does that?

Who the fuck actually willingly goes to a person and tells them their true feelings?

Not Jordon, not in this economy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this story has taken a CharliexDanny direction. I didn't mean for it to happen, but it's here and it's staying.  
> If you liked it, please leave a comment/kudos, they go a long way.


	16. Special Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is yet another new member of the Undead household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in the chapter, I was out of town and there was no wifi.

Danny sighed happily as he looked about his new room. He couldn’t be happier with it; the furniture was rearranged, and his clothes were moved into the wardrobe.

Of course, the ever-present reminder that this used to be Matthew’s room was always hovering around the room like a fog in the early morning, but there was nothing Danny could do about that. Having the furniture in different places certainly helped with that.

Now, looking at the bare walls, Danny wished he had any sort of art or posters or anything to decorate them. Even at his apartment, his old home, he had no wall decor, nothing to show that it was more than just a place to sleep and store his clothes.

If only he had actual money to go and buy some art. Except he didn’t really feel like asking what happened to his finances after he’d been kidnapped. He didn’t feel like he really wanted to know.

Danny sat down on his bed, finally taking a moment for himself. All day long, he’d been busy remaking this room into his own.

He was more than disappointed that Jordon didn’t try and talk to him about anything more than just him moving in. He was aching to see if that kiss meant anything, or if he was just being naive. Another part of him, the more logical part, was glad that that conversation hadn’t come up at all.

Despite the calm moment, Danny couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was anxious about something, though what it was remained a mystery.

Danny used to love being alone in his apartment. The time away from his work, where his only concern was himself, was a rare and treasured time. Being able to act how he wanted to act, and not have to conform himself to another’s expectations was glorious.

But now, the silence was simply unpleasant. Not having someone else’s company was unpleasant. Being alone was unpleasant.

After months of never being alone, Danny found himself craving the company of one of the criminals he now considered friends.

But he wouldn’t cave in, not so easily.

  


Jordon sat down on the couch, grateful for a chance to rest. He had helped Danny move the furniture in Matt’s room – no, his _old_ room – and now, the rest was up to Danny.

He didn’t bother to tell Danny about his feelings, like he knew he would. He just told Danny about Matt’s room, and helped him with the moving process.

George came down the stairs, slipping on a black jacket that Jordon knew was his designated work-jacket.

“What’s going on?” Jordon asked, hoping that he wouldn’t have to get up. He literally just sat down.

“We have shit to do,” George said, heading for the cabinet where all their masks were usually stored. “You, me, and Jay gotta go.”

“Why not Dyl?” Jordon stood up with a heavy groan, just in time to catch his bandanna and sunglasses that George threw at him.

“He said he’d stay here to watch Danny, make sure no one tries to attack our house or anything.”

Jordon wrinkled his nose. “That makes Danny sound like a dog, or a kid who needs a babysitter.”

“Whatever, man, let’s go. Jay’s waiting in the garage.”

“Hold on, I’m gonna talk to Dylan.”

George’s eyes widened with a cunning sort of glee. “Tell him to go and do the thing today, I think it’s time.”

Jordon smirked. “Got it.”

  


Dylan looked up at the knock on his bedroom door. “Yeah?”

Jordon cracked the door open, and peeked his head in. “Yo, dude, today’s the day for the thing while we’re out and about.”

Dylan nodded. “Aye, aye, captain. One super special surprise comin’ up.”

“Also,” Jordon said, fully entering the room and shutting the door behind him. “I got a special favor to ask of you.”

“What is it, man?” Dylan couldn’t deny his interest was piqued.

Jordon flicked his eyes to the floor. “It’s about Danny.”

“Oh, your massive crush on him?”

Jordon groaned. “Jay told you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course he did. He told me and George like ten minutes after you told him.”

“Awesome.”

Dylan cocked his head. “Do you want me to find out if he likes you back?”

Jordon popped his lips. “Maybe.”

“I’ll try my best,” Dylan told him with a grin.

“Jordon, let’s go!” George shouted from down the hall.

 

Dylan waited until he was sure that they had all left, then knocked on Matt- no, _Danny’s_ door.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Dylan eased the door open, and was surprised to find the room looking similar yet different. It looked good; it looked more like Danny’s room, now. Maybe they could even paint the walls or something, and really make it his own.

But right now, Dylan had a mission.

“How do you feel about doing a really nice thing for Jay, to cheer him up a bit?”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “What kind of thing?”

Dylan smirked, and wiggled his eyebrows. “A really nice thing,” He said simply. “Come on, we gotta go get it.”

“Are we gonna die?” Danny asked as he carefully slid off his bed, and followed Dylan into the garage.

“Not at all, homie. Not even a little.”

 

Danny was secretly very happy that Dylan had taken him out of the house. He was still very concerned about what they were doing – he had no clue as to what might happen – but he was grateful for the company and for the activity.

He didn’t try to ask where they were going, he just cranked the music while Dylan rolled down the windows.

This car trip was a lot shorter than the others; Before they even made into the main part of the city, Dylan pulled the car up in front of a tiny little red building with a fenced-in yard, surrounded by trees on either side.

“Where are we?” Danny asked as they got out of the car. He didn’t like the looks of this place; it was a little run-down, and there was a weird smell around the lawn.

Dylan grinned. “It’s a shelter, run by this really cool chick, Anna. She and a few of her friends started it, to help with the amount of stray animals in the streets. She’s super cool and friendly, and she’s gonna help us pick out a cat.”

“A cat?” Danny echoed, following Dylan through the dirt parking lot.

“Yes, angel, a cat, for Jay, to cheer him up.” Dylan took Danny’s hand, and led him into the little building. “Anna?” He called out as soon as they entered the door.

Danny was intrigued to say the least; they were in a large room, with part of it sectioned off by a service counter. There were a few shelves lined with various things for pets, and a few other rooms on the other wall.

He had never heard of this shelter, nor had he seen anything like it. It was weird.

A short woman with green hair pulled back in a bun popped out from behind the counter, heading over to the two men with a bright smile.

“Dylan!” She greeted him, holding her arms out.

“Hey, you, how you doin’?” Dylan gave her the kind of hug that seemed more than a little friendly, at least to Danny.

“I’m doing well, how about you?” Anna smiled at him, then noticed Danny was there. “Who’s this?”

“This is Danny,” Dylan said, patting him on the shoulder. “He’s a friend, we’re here to cheer up Jay, I was hoping you could help.”

Danny noticed how he was specifically introduced as a friend to this new woman.

“Jay? What’s wrong with Jay?” Anna furrowed her brows, and crossed her arms.

“He’s just going through some tough times, you know? He got dumped.”

Anna gave the both of them a pointed look. “So you’re getting him a pet?”

“A cat, yeah.” Dylan looked more confident in this plan than Danny felt, but there was no going back now.

“Okay.” Anna nodded, and gestured for them both to follow her. “Were you looking for a kitten or an adult cat?”

Dylan looked to Danny, who shrugged. “Kitten, I guess, I don’t know.”

“Well, let’s take a look in the kitten room, and see how you feel.” Anna let them to one of the offset rooms, which was filled with black metal cages. Only a few were occupied with mewling kittens.

“Do you guys know what kind of cat Jay prefers?” Anna asked as they stood in front of the cages.

Dylan shook his head. “He has absolutely no goddamn standards. He would befriend a rabid cat on the streets if he could.”

“Alrighty then,” Anna giggled. “Let me know if one of them catches your eye. Don’t forget, there’s adults in the other cat room. And we have dogs, if you guys are interested in one of them.”

“Thanks,” Dylan said with a wink.

Anna gave him one last smile before she left the room. As soon as the door closed, Danny turned to Dylan, fully ignoring the mewling kittens behind him.

“Do you like her?” He asked with a small grin.

Dylan raised his brows in shock, but his smile gave it away. “Um, maybe, or like, as a friend, you know?”

“Sure,” Danny said, turning back to the kittens. “She likes you, at least.”   
“We have a mission here, Dan,” Dylan said a little loudly. “Let’s pick out a fuckin’ cat for Jay. And we’ll have to get a litter box, and litter, food, and a collar, and toys-”

“I get it, I get it,” Danny interrupted with a wave of his hand. “Focus on the cat, not the pretty chick who seems into you, understood.”

“Good.”

After a careful but not too careful examination of the kittens, the two men decided that none of them really caught their eye.

“Let’s try the other cat room,” Dylan suggested.

And so they did.

This other cat room was different from the kitten room in that there were no cages of any kind. There were just a bunch of grown cats let loose in a room filled with cat houses, scratching posts, food and water bowls, and toys.

There was a bulletin board depicting a little sheet for each of the cats in the room, but otherwise the walls were bare.

“I can _feel_ the fur in the air,” Danny said, eyeing each cat with more than a little distrust.

Dylan just chuckled. “Come on, Dan, let’s interview these little fuckers.”

By interview, Dylan meant just sitting on the floor and waiting for a cat to approach him. Danny didn’t like that idea – he wore black pants and cat hair was covering each and every surface in the room – but he didn’t know any other method of interviewing cats, so down on the floor he sat as well.

It barely took a minute for a couple cats to approach them. They seemed a little skittish, except for one cat in particular.

A little brown tabby cat came right up to Danny, fearless and confident.

“Hello,” Danny greeted it, sticking his hand out for the cat to sniff it. “I’m Danny, what’s your name?”

“Cats don’t talk,” Dylan said as he attempted to pet a small orange cat that wanted nothing to do with him.

Danny narrowed his eyes at the criminal. “You don’t know that; besides, this is an interview, right?” He turned back to the brown cat that was currently rubbing against his legs. “What do you hope to accomplish working with us?”

The cat just purred as Danny started to pet it.

“I think we have a winner,” Dylan said, scooting closer so he could pet the cat too. “It seems super friendly, I think Jay will really like it.”

Danny got up from the floor, and walked over to the bulletin board. “His name is Fluffy,” He said, pointing to the sheet designated for the little brown tabby. “He’s only a couple years old, already neutered, and house-trained.”

“Then we definitely got a winner,” Dylan said as he stood up. “But we gotta change that name.”

“Yeah, it’s awful.”

Dylan picked up Fluffy, who surprisingly didn’t mind it. “We’ll let Jay pick the name, though I doubt it’s gonna be a whole lot better. He ain’t exactly the most creative motherfucker on the planet.”

“As long as it’s not Fluffy, I think it’ll be okay.” Danny opened the cat door for Dylan, and the two of them – well, three cause of the cat – went in search of Anna.

  


A couple hours later, after buying more things than probably necessary for the cat, the two men drove home.

“Are you sure Jay is going to be okay with this?” Danny asked, carefully taking the cardboard carrier containing the cat out of the back seat of the car.

“Of course he will,” Dylan assured, grabbing all of the cat things out of the trunk. “He’s been wanting to get a cat for years.”

“Why didn’t he?”

Dylan pressed his lips into a line. “Aron said no. “

“Oh.”

“Just put the cat in the living room, let him get used to everything,” Dylan said. “The others won’t be home for another hour or so.”

Danny spent a good amount of time carrying the cat around the entire house, getting him used to everything, while Dylan set up the litter box and toys and whatever.

Eventually, Danny took the cat down to the basement, where Dylan still was.

“If it shits anywhere else in the house, we’re gonna have problems,” Dylan warned, watching the cat paw around the litter box with little interest.

“He should be house-trained, so that shouldn’t be a problem,” Danny said. As much as he hated to admit it, he was starting to like the cat. It was cute, and extremely soft.

“I think we picked a pretty damn good cat,” Dylan said, crouching down to pet him. “The rest of us had planned to get Jay a cat months ago, because none of us cared what the fuck Aron said, but shit went down and it never happened. Today was the perfect opportunity.”

Danny smiled a little, unable to help himself. “That’s really nice of you guys.”

“It was Jordon’s idea,” Dylan told him. It wasn’t necessarily the truth, but not exactly a lie.

“Of course it was,” Danny murmured, mostly to himself.

“What does that mean?”

“I-I mean, it just makes sense that such a caring guy like Jordon would want to do something so nice for his brother.” Danny looked everywhere except the criminal in front of him, hiding the blush that was threatening to tint his cheeks.

“Jordon is a pretty caring guy.” Dylan tried to think of another way to ask about Danny’s feelings for said-criminal, but no subtle method was coming to mind. Being blunt is just easier.

“Do you like him?”

Danny coughed, startling the cat that was wounding its way through his legs. “What?”

“Jordon, do you like Jordon?”

“Er- um, maybe?” Danny looked like a deer caught in headlights, all wide eyes and startled.

Dylan just nodded, satisfied with the answer. “Cool.”

Both men grew silent as the sound of a car engine grew near the basement.

“Shit,” Dylan hissed. “Take the cat upstairs!”

Danny scooped the cat up, and hurried up the stairs, careful to not squish the tiny creature. He made it to the living room, and sat on the middle couch. The cat was a little disgruntled, but didn’t really mind the sudden transportation.

Dylan quickly followed him, and stood behind the couch. Despite his confidence that the cat wouldn’t be unwelcomed, he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous about it. Danny gave him his best reassuring smile, and the cat gave a little mew.

Three sets of footsteps were heard on the stair case; Jorel was in the lead, Jordon and George behind him.

“Honey, we’re home!” Jordon called out.

“We’re in the living room,” Dylan yelled back.

The three men paused as soon as they entered the living room and caught sight of Danny. Or more specifically, the cat situated in Danny’s lap, kneading its little paws on his thighs.

Jordon and George merely smirked, while Jorel looked happily shocked; it reminded Danny of a small child being given a gift they had wanted for a very long time.

“Is that… what-” Jorel cut himself off, and very carefully stepped forward. A smile crept up on his face as he gazed at the cat. He looked back up to Dylan. “Are you serious?”

Dylan grinned proudly, placing his hands on Danny’s shoulders. “Yep. We got you a cat.”

Jorel smiled wider than Danny had ever seen. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but there seemed to be tears of joy in the leader’s eyes.

“He’s already house-trained, and he’s super sweet,” Danny said as he held out the cat. “Do you wanna hold him?”

Ever so gently, Jorel reached his arms out; his gaze was fixed on the cat, which Danny placed into his arms.

“He’s perfect,” Jorel said, sitting on the couch next to Danny. He began gingerly petting the cat, letting it get used to him a little.

“What’re you gonna name him?” George asked, watching with a small smile of his own.

Jorel took a deep breath, idly scratching the cat’s neck as he thought. After a moment, he looked up with a triumphant smile. “Tiger.”

Dylan shot Danny a sort of I-told-you-so-look.

“I think that’s a great name,” Jordon said, nodding approvingly.

“Tiger it is,” Dylan agreed.

Danny held his hand out to the cat, attempting to issue a handshake with a creature that doesn’t have thumbs. “Welcome to the team, Tiger.”

The cat just continued purring like a freight train in Jorel’s lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if Tiger was J-Dog's first cat irl, or what, but it doesn't really matter. Suspension of reality and all that when you're reading fanfiction.


	17. Blast to the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny and Jorel go on a small adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Imma just apologize for this chapter ahead of time: it's not too great, but I've already re-written it several times and i' as satisfied with it as I'm going to get. So here it is.   
> Please enjoy, if you can.

Time seemed to pass slower and slower as the days went by. Maybe it was the curse of aching for an event to pass, but having to wait for it. Maybe it was never knowing what might happen the next day, and wanting to hold onto the current moment.

It had only been a few days since Tiger the cat had become part of the family. It had only been a day more than that since Danny and Jordon had their little moment, and never spoke of it again.

But to everyone within the Undead household, a few days seemed to stretch into a few months.

Danny could see how this was affecting the others. They were eating less, drinking more, and looking more and more like zombies. He hoped it was simply a phase, but who the fuck could tell. It was all he could to make sure they ate at least one meal a day.

He was currently bringing this one meal – some leftover pizza and a glass of water, nothing special – up to Jorel’s room. He knocked on the door, then entered without waiting for permission. Maybe one day, he could just enter without knocking at all. But that was rude, so maybe not.

“I brought you pizza,” Danny announced, walking over to where Jorel was sitting as his desk. He shut the laptop, and placed the food on top of it. “And water, because you can’t survive off of booze alone.”

“I haven’t died yet,” Jorel muttered, taking the glass of water with a resigned yet annoyed glare.

Danny just sighed. “Jay, no.”

“Jay, yes.”

“Drink. The. Water.”

“Fine.” Jorel drank the water with a sullen pout, then slowly ate the pizza.

While he ate, Danny sat on the bed. He didn’t really have to – he had nothing to say, ask or request – he just felt like sitting there. In the company of another person. A friend, even.

Once Jorel finished his food, he turned around to face Danny. “Wanna do anything today?”

Danny furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“There’s only so much one person can take before they need a day off,” Jorel said simply. “The others are all out doing their jobs, so I was wondering if there was something you wanted to do. Anything you wanted to do, we can do.”

Danny was flattered, if he was being honest. He hadn’t been asked what he wanted to do in… more than a long time. Way before he was brought into his new life with the Undead. It had always been work then sleep then work then sleep, over and over, going in circles.

He already knew what he wanted to do. “Could… could we go back to my apartment? Shit, is it even still in my name?”

“It is,” Jorel told him with an affirmative nod. “We kept paying your bills, everything is still as it should be. Unless robbers got to it or something.”

“Why’d you keep paying my bills if I didn’t live there?” Danny asked as he stood from the bed.

Jorel shrugged, standing as well. “Your rent was cheap enough, and we were preparing for anything. You’d be surprised by how many times we could’ve used a spare apartment.”

“I don’t wanna know.”

“And I don’t wanna tell. Shit’s embarrassing, you know?” Jorel was silent for a moment, then clapped his hands together with a small grin. “Well, let’s hit the road.”

Driving with Jorel was different than with Dylan. He didn’t blare music so loudly that Danny couldn’t hear his own thoughts. Instead, he played heavy rock music quietly, so the conversation could still flow.

After a few minutes, Danny noticed that Jorel was mouthing along the lyrics to the song, though he had no idea what song it was.

“Who’s this?” He asked, idly nodding his head along with the beat.

“What, wait?” Jorel asked, facing Danny, shock clear in his face. “You don’t know this band?”

Danny just shook his head. Was he supposed to know every damn rock band in the world?

Jorel loudly sighed, his eyes wide and disbelieving. “Okay, so, education for you: this band is called Misfits, and you are going to love them.” He turned the volume up a little, and sat back.

“And if I don’t love them?” Danny asked, staring out at the road and cars ahead of them.

Jorel merely shushed him.

By the time they had arrived parked in front of Danny’s apartment building, Danny had heard more than a few Misfits’ songs, and Jorel was eagerly awaiting his final thoughts.

“I thought they were good,” Danny admitted. He did too; maybe not as good as Jorel seemed to make them, but they weren’t bad, not by any means.

Jorel smiled, pleased with his answer. “Damn right, they’re good. We’re going to continue your education when we get back home.”

“Sure.” Danny smiled widely. “Now come on.”

  


As Jorel said, Danny’s apartment was untouched, except for most of his clothes, since those were at the house. A fine layer of dust had settled over everything.

When Danny flipped the light switch in the living room, the bulb flickered, as if it had forgotten how to illuminate. It was painfully clear that no one had been here in months.

“Your place is nice,” Jorel said, eyeing the living room.

It was small; there was barely enough room for a single couch and coffee table. There was a fake fire place on the wall across from the main entrance, with a mantle that Danny used for his nice television he spent a year saving up for. The gray carpet was gross, but it matched the gray couch he got from a furniture store that was going out of business and selling everything for super cheap.

Danny huffed, shaking his head dismissively. “It’s shit, man. Cheap everything, with no style.”

“And our house has style?” Jorel asked with an eyebrow cocked.

“My point is, my apartment is… gross.”

“It’s super clean.”

“Figuratively gross.” Danny gave his pathetic living room one last look, then headed for his bedroom. His equally gross bedroom. A plain cheap bed, with plain black sheets, and a navy blue comforter. He had a tiny little desk in the corner that he didn’t use, a dresser that was falling apart, and a very small closet.

Compared to the house he lived in now, his apartment might as well have been a dog’s house. The thought shocked him a little; Danny had never felt this kind of contempt for his apartment until now; maybe living with the Undead was changing him more than he knew.

Danny shook his head to get rid of that thought – it was ridiculous, and frivolous – and he went right for his bed, or more specifically, for the little shoe box he had stored under it.

“That your porn stash?” Jorel asked with a smirk, leaning in the doorway of the bedroom.

“Ha ha,” Danny deadpanned. He sat down on his bed, and set the box in his lap. “It’s just family stuff; pictures, small heirlooms, you know.”

He opened the box, briefly showing Jorel its contents to prove his point.

Jorel hummed. “I thought you didn’t have a family.”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t, not really. I have parents, brothers, but not a _family_ , if you get my meaning.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” Danny looked at the picture that was on top of the stack in the box. It was of his family; his mom and dad holding his siblings and him, all of them smiling and just… full of life. The picture had to be at least fifteen, maybe even twenty years old. It felt more like a hundred years old.

“I’ll be in the living room,” Jorel announced softly.

“Make yourself at home,” Danny told him, not looking away from the photo. “There should be beer or whiskey in the fridge.”

“Thanks. Take your time.” Jorel made sure to gently close the door before he left.

Danny couldn’t remember any other instance when Jorel did anything gently.

He looked at the next photo in the small pile. It was of him and his siblings, in their backyard. They were playing hide and seek, except none of them were well-hidden.

Danny set the photos aside. He didn’t want to look at them anymore; he honestly didn’t know why he held onto them for so long. They were pictures of a family that threw him out. Maybe he should mail them to his brother, the one that hadn’t disowned him; perhaps he could make some use of them.

The rest of the box’s contents were just as heart-wrenching. A necklace, given to Danny by his mother when he graduated high school. An engagement ring that his grandmother had given him when he turned sixteen, because she was the kind of woman who believed in soulmates. A braided string bracelet his brother had made for him when they were kids.

Danny took a deep breath, and fought the tears threatening to fall. He put the pictures back into the box, shut it, and tucked it under his arm. This little box was really the only thing he needed from his apartment. Everything else was generic, and had no value to him. His entire apartment was filled with meaningless crap that he only bought because people need things like spoons and plates.

A harsh sound came from the living room; it sounded somewhere between a cough and a gasp, and it had to have come from Jorel. It was only then that Danny realized he had no idea how much time had passed. He decided to grab the watch that was sitting on his wardrobe on the way out of his room.

He entered the living room, where Jorel was sitting on the couch. Holding his head in his hands. Rocking back and forth. Breathing heavily enough that it was concerning.

Danny rushed to his side, dropping the box onto the coffee table as he sat down next to the criminal.

“Shit, Jay, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Danny asked, loosely wrapping his arms around Jorel. He didn’t know what the fuck to do; his first thought was to call an ambulance for a wanted criminal.

Jorel tried to say something, but it just came across as choked sobs. He held tightly onto Danny’s arm, squeezing with enough force that it would probably bruise, but Danny didn’t mind.

He just held Jorel close, lightly petting his hair as he sobbed.

After a few moments, the flood of tears softened to mere trickle. Jorel stopped sobbing, now just silently crying a few tears here or there. He loosened his grip on Danny’s arm, but didn’t let go completely, as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality.

Danny didn’t say anything, not yet.

Jorel took a deep, shuddering breath, and harshly wiped away his tears. “I’m sorry,” He croaked.

Danny pressed his lips together; no one should feel sorry for crying. He didn’t say that though; he simply asked, “Do you want some water?”

Jorel nodded, letting go of Danny’s arm.

“I’ll be right back,” Danny promised. He went and got a glass of water as quickly as he could, making sure that the glass he grabbed didn’t have any dust on it before he filled it with water. He brought it to Jorel, and sat back down on the couch.

Jorel took it with a grateful nod, holding the glass with both of his hands as he sipped it. It was comically small compared to his hands.

Danny brought Jorel back in for a loose embrace. Jorel stiffened, but quickly relaxed; he even rested his head on the blonde’s shoulders.

Neither of them said anything for a few moments. Danny waited until Jorel was breathing evenly again to break the silence.

“My neighbors to the right claimed to be musicians,” Danny said, mainly to distract Jorel. “One of them played the banjo, and the other played the trumpet. They sounded like a donkey that got its dick bitten off by another donkey.”

Jorel gave a breathless chuckle, the kind where you wanna laugh but you’re trying not to so it’ll prove your point about being sad or angry or whatever.

“There were so many noise complaints that the bitch who owns the building made them stop practicing here or she would kick them out. In the end, they just sold their instruments.”

“They sound like terrible people.”

“They aren’t as bad as the dick across the hall. One time, he asked me to hold onto his coke while the cops searched his apartment.” Danny tried his best to avoid that particular neighbor after that particular incident.

“You got some fucked up neighbors.”

Danny shrugged with one shoulder. “I got some better ones now, right?”

Jorel sharply exhaled with the barest of smiles. “Right.”

There was another brief moment of silence, but this time, Jorel broke it.

“Do you miss your family?”

Danny swallowed, shifting a little to get more comfortable. “I’m not sure,” He admitted. And he wasn’t. “Some days I do, but others, I don’t. They cast me out when I chose how to live to my life. They didn’t respect my choices, not even a little. But sometimes, I wanna see them, and just… give them a hug and tell them that I forgive them.”

“Do you actually forgive them or do you just miss them?” Jorel asked, more than a hint of cynicism to his shaky voice.

“Sometimes I forgive them. Other times I don’t, because they disowned me for living my own damn life. I guess most of the time, I don’t.” Danny decided that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he changed the subject. “What about you? Do you have family?”

Jorel sighed. “Parents and two sisters. I don’t like ‘em too much, they never really cared about me.”

“Do you actually think that?”

“I guess not,” Jorel admitted. “My sisters were the perfect daughters, I was the trouble-maker son. I could tell they loved my sisters more, and I don’t blame ‘em. So when I turned eighteen, I left. Haven’t been back since.”

“Where did you go?” Danny couldn’t help but to ask, curious about the criminal’s life. This was the first time he’d gotten anywhere close to a real backstory from any of them.

Jorel sighed. “Aron, Jeff and I formed the Undead. We’d all been planning it as soon as we figured out we weren’t meant for a normal life.”

“Do you ever wish that you had chosen the normal life instead?”

“No,” Jorel responded immediately, but he didn’t sound confident in his answer. He began playing with the hem of his shirt, twisting the edge around his fingers.

“Are you okay?” Danny asked, shifting so he could see more of Jorel’s face.

“I’m fucking peachy.”

Danny suppressed a frown. “What’s wrong?” He asked very deliberately.

“A lot of things,” Jorel said bitterly. “Being here, at your old place, it’s just got me thinking.”

“About what?”

“Things. Myself. People.”

Even though Danny couldn’t really see his face, he could tell that Jorel was getting close to crying again. He tightened his arms around the criminal, and brought one hand up to lightly pet his hair.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, it’s all okay,” Danny murmured, wishing he was a lot better at consoling people.

Jorel harshly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m sorry,” He murmured, covering his eyes with both his hands.

“What for?” Danny asked softly.

A brief pause. Then, “For losing control like this.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Danny told him sternly. “You can’t control that shit, it’s not your fault.”

“But I’m better than this,” Jorel lamented. “I _don’t_ cry.”

Danny shook his head. “No one’s above crying, man. It’s good for you.”

“Makes me feel like shit though.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Well, it does. Just one more reason I’m a fucking failure.”

Danny separated from Jorel, placing his hands on the criminal’s cheeks, forcing him to meet his gaze full of fierce dissent for that statement.

“Now listen to me carefully, Jorel No Last Name. You are not a failure. You are going through more shit than Hercules, and you are coming out on top. You haven’t let yourself be beaten yet, and you never will. You are strong, in every goddamn way.”

Danny spoke with more conviction than Jorel had ever heard in his life. Yet he still wasn’t convinced.

“I’m not strong-”

He was cut off by Danny, having had enough of this pity party, pressing his lips to Jorel’s, effectively silencing him.

When Danny pulled back, Jorel looked bewildered, but not upset.

“That was a shut-the-fuck-up kiss,” Danny told him with a small smile. “So you’re going to shut the fuck up. No more self-pity, not from you. Not from one of the strongest people I know. Got it?”

Jorel couldn’t help but to smirk. “I forgot how good your lips feel, kitten.”

Danny smiled; that damn nickname would be the death of him. “Yours too.”

“Can I give you a ‘I’m sorry for being a self-deprecating jackass’ kiss?”

Danny nodded, still smiling. “I’d like that.”

And just like that, it was as if they were transported back to when Danny had first arrived at the house of the Undead. Back to when he only served a single purpose. Except this time, the obligation, the threat, wasn’t there. In it’s place was a kind of acceptance, a kind of _respect_. Danny wasn’t being used; he was consenting.

Jorel took everything slowly, the exact opposite of how he treated Danny in the beginning. This time, he kept asking if Danny was alright, if he was comfortable with it all, if he wanted to stop. He kept treating Danny like an _equal_.

And it seemed to be just the type of distraction that Jorel needed. When they had finished, Jorel seemed to be more confident, his head a little clearer. He seemed more like a proud leader than he had before.

Danny was just glad he could help. Of course, it didn’t hurt that he had a good time himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They fucked. Big time.   
> Disclaimer: I don't actually know all the members of either Danny's or Jorel's irl families, I was too lazy to look it up  
> Shit's gonna heat up in the next chapter, but school's starting again for me so it might be delayed, i'm not too sure


	18. Fucked up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes were made, and the resolution is a bit of a tedious process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In attempting to keep up with my "updating on weekends" schedule, I bring you a not so great chapter!  
> I'm not great at writing fight scenes at all, and this chapter is a little repetitive, but I didn't want to delay it any longer.  
> I hope you enjoy!

The drive home was a stark contrast to the brief time spent in Danny’s apartment; both men’s moods dropped considerably, and for the same reason.

When they got back to the house, Danny went straight to his room, ignoring Jorel completely. He couldn’t blame the blonde; he wanted to ignore himself too.

“Yo, Jay, where the fuck did you guys go?”

Jorel suddenly noticed that he had gotten to the living room, where Jordon currently was, resting on the couch.

Jordon. The man who had a huge crush bordering on love for Danny. Whom Jorel just fucked.

“We went to Danny’s apartment,” Jorel told him. “He wanted to get some family shit.” He shifted on his feet, and brought his hands together behind his back.

Jordon cocked his head. “You good, man? You look weird.”

“I’m good,” Jorel replied, maybe a little too quickly.

“Where’s Danny?” Jordon asked, peering behind Jorel.

“He went to his room.” Jorel fought the urge to swallow.

“Why?”

“He said he was tired.”

Jordon raised an eyebrow. “Tired from what?”

“Fuck if I know, man.” Jorel shrugged, then turned around and went up to his room. Once he was certain he was alone, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was normally a great liar – it was something he prided himself on – but he could never lie to his brothers.

He knew he should probably come clean, but how the fuck do you tell your metaphorical brother that you fucked his crush? You don’t, that’s how.

And that’s what Jorel was going to do. Not tell anyone, and hope that Danny did the same.

  
  


Jorel found out later that Danny did  _ not _ do the same. He had been in the kitchen, minding his own business, grabbing a beer from the fridge, when all of a sudden, a blinding pain erupted all over his face, flooding his vision with static and his mouth with his own blood. He dropped the beer bottle he’d been holding; he could hear it shatter against the floor. 

“You son of a  _ bitch _ !”

A heavy shove sent Jorel to the floor, landing right on remains of his beer. The one day he wore shorts was the day he landed on a floor covered in glass shards and beer.

“I can’t fucking believe you!”

The static cleared enough that Jorel could grasp the counter, hauling himself up in time for another attack.

“How could you?” Jordon nearly screamed at him, looking beyond pissed as he shoved Jorel again, this time only making him stumble. “How  _ could  _ you?”

“What the fuck?” Jorel held his arms up, bracing himself against another shove. “Fucking calm down!”

“What the fuck is going on?” Dylan yelled, racing into the kitchen with George behind him.

“This motherfucker dicked me over!” Jordon yelled.

He swung at Jorel, who barely managed to dodge it, slipping in the puddle of beer and landing on his knees. George wasted no time in yanking Jordon away, holding his arms behind his back.

Dylan stood behind Jorel as he stood back up, ready to restrain him if needed.

“You’re a fucking dick!” Jordon strained against George’s arms, glaring at Jorel with fury of a thousand gods. “God, what the  _ fuck _ is wrong with you?” 

“What’d you do, homie?” Dylan asked, eyeing Jordon with concern.

“He fucking fucked Danny!” Jordon shouted, jerking against George, almost succeeding in breaking from his grasp.

Dylan stepped away with wide eyes. “That’s not cool, dude. We swore we'd stop doing that shit.”

“He fucking agreed to it!” Jorel shouted, flicking his gaze between the three men. “For fuck’s sake, he started it!”

Jordon shook his head violently. “You’re lying!”

“I’m not!” Jorel brought his hands to his face, harshly raking his fingers through his hair. “How did you find out?”

“Why?” Jordon yanked his arm out of George’s grip, keeping a steady glare at the leader.

“Just answer my fucking question.”

“I told him,” George said, looking slightly guilty. “Danny told me, and I told him.”

“Yeah, thanks for not fucking telling me, you prick!” Jordon started forward, as if he meant to attack but thought better of it.

“We both regret it, man!” Jorel was growing more desperate with each passing second; this was  _ not  _ how he wanted this conversation to go. “Fucking ask him! He feels like shit, hell,  _ I _ feel like shit! It wasn’t supposed to happen, I swear!”

“Nothing’s  _ supposed _ to happen,” Jordon seethed. “Was it an accident? You just accidentally fucked him?”

Jorel wanted to take his shoe off and throw it at someone. “It wasn’t like that-” 

“God, you’re acting just like Aron!” 

Everyone fell silent; Jordon seemed to just now fully process what he said. His anger faded away, being replaced by a sort of horrific shock. George and Dylan just kept watching with wide eyes. 

Jorel bit his lip, looking up to the light on the ceiling, blinking harshly. “Wow. That how you really feel?”

“Jay, I didn’t-” 

“Look, Jordon, I fucked up, I get that, and I’m sorry. From the bottom of my goddamn heart, I’m  _ sorry _ . But Danny still loves you. We both feel like shit about what happened, okay? Go fucking talk him about it.

“And then, if you still wanna hit me, I won’t stop you. I deserve it, I do. I fucked up, just please don’t take it out on Danny.” Jorel took a deep breath, leaning on the counter as all of his energy suddenly left him.

George and Dylan were silent, the former seemed concerned, while the latter seemed shocked; Jordon still looked angry, but nearly as hell-bent on Jorel’s destruction as he did just a moment ago.

“I’ll be in my room,” Jorel muttered, escaping the kitchen as quickly as he could. He needed to be alone, and maybe pick out any glass that was embedded in his legs. 

 

George watched the leader disappear up the stairs, feeling more than a little bit of pity for the man.

“He’s lying,” Jordon claimed, clenching his fists and glaring at the floor.

“We all know when he’s lying, homie,” Dylan said gently.

George sighed. “He feels bad about it, man. Dan does too.”

“Why would they even fuck in the first place?” Jordon asked, sounding more miserable than angry.

Dylan and George shared a knowing look behind Jordon’s back.

“I don’t know, man.”

“Are you gonna go talk to Danny?” Dylan asked, placing his hand on Jordon’s shoulder.

“I can’t, not right now. I don’t wanna get pissed and hurt him somehow.”

“Want me to go talk to him?”

“You don’t have-”

“If it’ll put an end to all of this petty bullshit, I’m willing to do it.”

Jordon grimaced, glancing at the spilled beer and shattered glass still on the floor. “Shit, this really is high-school fucking drama, isn’t it?”

“Just a little,” Dylan said. He pat Jordon’s shoulder a couple times, saying, “I’ll go talk to Dan.”

“Thanks, man, really.”

“Don’t thank me until this whole thing is cleared up, okay?”

“Okay,” Dylan said with a bare smile.

“And while you’re doing that, we’ll will clean up this mess,” George said, already searching the cabinets for the dust pan he knew they owned but could never find.

Dylan left the room, leaving two men to their cleaning.

“Did I just fuck up any possibility of being with Danny?” Jordon asked as he grabbed some paper towels.

George shrugged. “I dunno, man. I doubt it, but who knows?”

“I guess we’ll see eventually.”

“We will.” George reached out, placing his hand on Jordon’s shoulder with a reassuring smile. “It’s all gonna be okay, you’ll see.”

Jordon smiled back, but it was definitely a forced smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

  
  


Danny was lying on his bed when he heard shouting. He couldn’t tell what was being said, but he could tell it was Jordon, and that he was seriously angry. It only made Danny feel so much worse about what he let happen.

The shouting stopped soon enough, but Danny didn’t go investigate. He was almost certain that Jordon would never want to see his face again. The thought hurt, but Danny couldn’t blame him.

He just hoped that no one got hurt somehow.

Danny jerked when there was a knock on his door. Hoping with all of his might that it wasn’t Jordon, he said, “Come in.”

The door cracked in, and Dylan popped his head into the room. 

Danny audibly sighed with relief.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah.” Danny scoot back on his bed, providing room for the criminal to sit down. He wanted to be able to do anything to avoid this conversation, but there was no way out. At least, no way that Danny could perceive without someone ending up with major bodily harm.

Dylan sat down on the bed, bringing his legs up and folding them like a small child. He placed his hands in his lap, and just looked at Danny. He didn’t say anything, he just looked with a blank face.

Danny shrank backward a little at his gaze. “Are you… um…”

“Jordon’s pissed, if you didn’t hear the fight in the kitchen.”

Danny pressed his lips together; this was definitely not helping him feel better. “Is anyone hurt?”

“He punched the fuck out of Jay, who landed on the floor covered in glass, but he’ll be fine.” Dylan spoke with such nonchalance, as if he were just discussing the weather.

“Did George tell Jordon?” Danny murmured, unable to look at Dylan anymore. It was much easier to just stare at his blanket anyway.

“You think he wouldn’t? You should know this by now, what you tell one of us, you tell all of us.”

“I guess I should know that by now.”

“That also means we all know about you and Jordy.”

Danny swallowed, wishing that he could disappear into the ground. “What about me and Jordon?”

Dylan tilted his head, and cocked an eyebrow. “That you two kissed, and that he really likes you. And I can tell by how damn red your cheeks are, you like him too.”

Danny didn’t say anything; he just tried to ignore his burning cheeks. 

“So it really doesn’t make sense that you and Jay would fuck, when you and Jordy both like each other.”

And yep, there’s that guilt again. 

“Jay… Jay was having a breakdown,” Danny pleaded. He hoped – he  _ prayed _ – that Dylan would understand, because if Dylan understood, maybe Jordon would too. “H-He was just fucking crying and saying shit about how he was a failure and he wouldn’t stop! I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to help him, so I… I...” Danny swallowed; he could feel his eyes burning, and his throat closing up. “God, I fucked up!”

Dylan just sat there, silent, his face blank as he processed what he was told.

It felt as if Danny were front and center on Judgement Day. “Are you gonna say anything?”

“What do I say?” Dylan asked, still refusing to show any emotion. “You helped Jay, but you and Jordon both love each other.”

“He could never love me after this,” Danny muttered.

“He does, angel. He’s hurt, but he does.”

“That just makes it worse.”

“You just gotta tell him what you told me,” Dylan offered, reaching his tattooed hand out, resting it on Danny’s knee. “He’ll understand.”

Danny looked into the criminal’s eyes, searching for hatred of any kind, but all he found was a sad sort of compassion. “Do you?”

“I do. I get why you did what you did. And for the record, it did seem to help Jay, even if it did end with this ugly mess.”

Danny looked up, sending a silent prayer to anyone who was listening and willing to strike him with lightning so that he wouldn’t have to have another extremely uncomfortable conversation. “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right, angel.” Dylan winked, earning a small chuckle from Danny.

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

  
  


Danny stood outside Jordon’s room, waiting. He knew he had to eventually knock on the door, and start an actual conversation, but he really, really,  _ really _ didn’t want to.

More than once, Danny brought his hand up to the door knob, but couldn’t turn it. More than once, Danny cursed himself out for not being able to do this.

He used to be a prostitute in Los Angeles – a pretty dangerous job, all things considered – but suddenly he couldn’t even face one man. A man he liked, and then kind of cheated on with his brother/leader. 

He was so fucked up. 

With a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

“Hello?” Jordon called through the door, sounding exhausted. 

“It’s me,” Danny replied, wincing at his own pathetic-sounding voice. “Can we talk?” 

There was a pause; Danny almost left until Jordon swung open the door, eyeing the blonde down. “Come in.” 

Danny entered the room, standing awkwardly in front of the desk while Jordon sat down on the bed. Despite attempting to maintain a blank gaze, Danny could see the anger lingering in the criminal’s eyes. It only made him feel a thousand times worse. 

“Well? What did you want to talk about?” Jordon asked, not bothering to hide a small amount of vitriol from his tone.

Danny just realized he had absolutely no idea how the fuck he wanted to say what he needed to say. Well, he knew one thing he wanted to say. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Jordon was unimpressed. “For?” 

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” Danny wilted; he already felt bad enough about it all. 

“No, I don’t want to hear you say it.” Jordon looked the blonde in the eye, radiating an aura of being done with everything. “Why’d you do it?” 

“Jorel wasn’t in a good place. I was just trying to help.” Danny hoped he didn’t sound as whiny and pitiful as he thought he did. 

“But…” Jordon trailed off, searching for the right words. “What about me, Danny? Do I just mean nothing to you?” 

Danny shook his head so much he felt it might snap off. “No! Jordon, you mean so much to me! I-I think I really like you.” He held his breath; he didn’t mean to say the last part. 

Jordon looked to the floor. “Do you actually?” He sounded more cynical than hopeful. 

“I do.” 

“Do you like Jay like that?” 

“No, not like that.” 

Jordon met his gaze, a bare smile on his lips. “I like you to, Danny.” His smile fell. “But that doesn’t erase what you did with Jay.” 

“I was just trying to help,” Danny murmured, looking at his shoes like a child being scolded. 

“I get that, I do. But I’d to at least like to know before you go and fuck one of the others.” 

Danny looked back up with furrowed brows. “You don’t care if I have sex with the rest of them?” 

Jordon shook his head. “Not as long as you actually like me.” He stood up, and slowly walked over to where the blonde was standing. He wrapped his hands around Danny’s waist, bringing him closer. 

Danny slung his arms over the criminal’s shoulders, clasping his hands together behind his neck. His heart was pounding more than he could ever remember, as if it were trying to escape his chest. 

He had forgotten how good it felt to be in the criminal’s arms. How  _ right _ it felt. There was no other place he would rather be. 

“I thought you loved Jay,” Jordon admitted, gazing thoughtfully at Danny, as if he were attempting to remember every detail about his face. “Just the thought almost… I didn’t like thinking that.” 

Danny brought himself closer, to the point where their chests would touch if he took a big enough breath. “I think I love  _ you _ ,” He whispered. “Not Jay.” 

“I think I love you too, baby.” Jordon didn’t think, he _ knew  _ that he loved the blonde he was still holding close to him. “I’m sorry I lost my shit earlier.” 

Danny managed a smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what happened.” 

“Can… can I kiss you?” 

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.” 

 

Jay was sitting on his desk chair, watching as George used a pair of tweezers to pick out the shards of glass that were embedded in his legs. 

“We’re gonna have to disinfect this,” George muttered, carefully working on a particular difficult piece of glass that did not want to escape its flesh prison in favor of the trash can. 

Jorel huffed. “Oh joyous of days.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have fallen on glass, and we wouldn’t have to be doing this.” 

“Fuck you.” 

George responded by yanking hard on the piece of glass; Jorel jerked, gasping in pain.

“Ow!” 

George smirked. “Stay still, bitch. There’s still like another thousand little pieces I gotta get out.” 

“This is going to take for-fucking-ever.” 

“Well, I’m not letting you walk around with glass in your legs. Maybe just wear jeans from now until the end of time.” 

“How about fuck no?” 

“Then don’t sleep with Danny again.” 

“George-” 

“I’m just fucking with you. At least tell Jordon before you do it. I doubt he’d mind; he ain’t the jealous type.” 

“None of us are.” 

“Right.” 

Jorel sighed. “He was fucking pissed.” 

George cocked an eyebrow, but kept working on his leader’s bloody leg. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“You’re right, you’re right.” 

“Always am.” 

“Except when you’re not, but okay.” 

George yanked another piece of glass. Jorel hissed, resisting the urge to punch the man’s shoulder. 

“Bitch.” 

“Don’t. Move.” 

“I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

“Sometimes.” 

“We all hate each other sometimes, that’s just life.” 

Jorel shook his head.  “What’s gonna happen if Danny and Jordy aren’t together after this?” 

“Then you got glass in your leg for nothing, and we’ll have to sit them down and yell at them.” 

“That’s your idea of an intervention?”   
George scoffed. “I don’t believe in interventions. Some people just need to be yelled at every once in a while.” 

“Is that why you always yell at Dylan for eating all the sweets in the house?” 

“No. I yell at Dilly for eating all the sweets because I buy them for all of us, goddamnit. He needs to learn to share.”

“Same could be said for you and coke, man.” 

George responded by jerking another shard from Jorel’s leg, effectively shutting down that particular conversation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School started up, and already, it's not looking like I'm gonna have a lot of free time where I'm not completely exhausted, so updates might be few and far between. So, sorry for that, but I want to try my best to keep up my good grades. Which means actually studying for tests, not cramming the period before I have to take it.  
> Gross, but it is what it is


	19. Where is he?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa has some news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mediocre, but it's as good as it's gonna get. Sorry I haven't been writing as well as I could be, but I hope to get back into the proper swing of things in the next few chapters.   
> Please enjoy!

Everyone in the Undead - especially Jorel - were extremely happy that Danny and Jordon finally got together. 

Due to that, Jorel then assigned them to handle the shop for today; it would just be Danny and Jordon, alone in the shop (aside from customers) for eight hours. Because what better way to bring two people closer together than to force them to be in each other’s company? 

Neither Danny nor Jordon were exactly opposed to this idea, which helped. 

So, at noon, the two of them sped off in the Mazda Miata, heading for downtown Los Angeles. 

“How long have you had this store?” Danny asked once they arrived, finding himself quite curious about the setup. 

It was just a little tattoo shop, squished between a run-down diner and a hookah store, hidden away from the prying eyes of most of the people of LA. 

Jordon shrugged as he unlocked the back door. “Forever, really. We opened it as a front for laundering, and figured we might as well make a little business out of it. Somewhere to go if the Undead crumble but we somehow aren’t in jail.” 

“What would happen if you did go to jail?” Danny didn’t really want to think too much about that situation, but he wanted to know what could happen. He would call it planning ahead, but there wasn’t much to plan. 

“We’d all get several life sentences,” Jordon said with no hesitation, taking the blonde’s hand and leading him to the front of the store. “We’re kinda murderers, if you haven’t forgotten.” 

“I didn’t,” Danny muttered. “I just prefer to ignore that.” 

“Ignorance ain’t always bliss, baby.” 

“Sometimes, it is.” Danny looked around the inside of the shop, truly taking a good look at it for the first time. 

It was exactly how he’d expected a tattoo shop run by five criminals to look: messy yet organized, with various designs of various styles covering the dark walls from floor to ceiling. A few different chairs were spread around the main room, with a desk in the back of the room separating it from the hallway they had just emerged from, which had a few doors leading off of it. 

“It’s a mess, but it’s our second home,” Jordon said, looking around with a loving smile. “We got a couch put in the main office a few years ago; I can’t even tell you how many nights I slept here when I was either working late or pissed at one of the guys.” 

“It’s nice,” Danny admitted, gazing at the designs on the walls. “Did you guys draw these?” 

Jordon scoffed. “Not all, baby, we ain’t that talented. Some, yeah, but not all. We got friends all over, they give us their drawings and we give ‘em a cut of the profits.” 

“What am I gonna do all day?” Danny asked, heading for behind the desk, both to snoop and search for something to do. 

“Whatever you wanna do, baby,” Jordon said, sitting at the chair behind the main desk. 

Danny smirked, raising his eyebrows and looking away. “I don’t think Jay would really approve of that here, you know?” 

Jordon bit his lips, eyeing the blonde down with lust sparkling in his eyes. After a moment, he took a deep breath, and forced himself to look away. “Save it for later, okay? We got a job to do, baby.” 

“But I don’t wanna,” Danny whined, sitting down on the nearest chair. 

“I know, but you gotta. Don’t worry, you won’t be super bored all day. The guys are gonna be stop by a couple times, and Vanessa’s coming later.” 

“Why is she stopping by?” 

“She wants to get a tattoo, and just talk. Knowing her, she’ll probably bring coffee like the godsend she is.” Jordon seemed excited at the prospect. Danny admired how much he looked forward to seeing a friend he didn’t live with. It was cute.

True to Jordan's words, only a couple hours went by before Vanessa showed up, and not without three large cups of coffee from the nearest hipster coffee joint. 

“Hiya, Jordy, hiya, Danny,” Vanessa greeted with a big smile as she distributed the coffee. “Long time no see.” 

“It’s been like a couple weeks,” Jordon said as he took his very hot beverage. 

“Like I said, long time no see.” Vanessa turned to Danny with a grin. “How you been, love?” 

Danny wasn’t expecting to be spoken to directly; he froze up a little, with an awkward smile to complete the deer-in-headlights vibe. “I-I’ve been good, all things considered.” 

“And you, Jordy?” Vanessa turned to the criminal, one hand on her hip and the other holding her coffee. 

“I’ve been alright.” Jordon gave her a tired smile. 

“And the others? Georgie, Dilly, Jay?” 

“They’ve been… better.” 

Vanessa sighed. “Haven’t we all?” Her smiled faded to a frown, but only for a few seconds before she perked back up. “Come on, I am so ready for this new tattoo!” 

“Then sit your ass down and we’ll get started.”

 

If Danny was being honest with himself, he never expected his life to go anywhere near the direction it had gone. He knew it would be weird and unpredictable, but not this weird and unpredictable. 

He never would have guessed that one day, he’d be sitting in a tattoo shop, watching his boyfriend - a very-wanted criminal - tattoo a tall and frankly intimidating woman - also a wanted criminal - and simultaneously trying to help out the rest of the group of felons in their search for a man they will eventually murder. 

What a weird fucking turn of events that he couldn’t seem to dislike too much. 

“Have you had a chance to do any digging around?” Jordon prepped the needle gun, making sure that it was sterile and all that crap. 

Vanessa shrugged. “A little, but not as much as I would like. Asia’s been helping out, but the store has been needing my attention, I’m sorry-” 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. We don’t wanna pressure you too much, it ain’t your shit to deal with.” 

Vanessa gave him stern look. “Jordy, what affects you guys, affects me, okay? I care about you guys, even if you don’t always deserve it.” 

“Glad to know you love us,” Jordon said with a wink. 

Vanessa rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “I hate you.” 

“Sure thing, honey.” 

“How’s Jay doing?”

Jordon smirked. “You still interested in him?” 

Vanessa narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not going to try and jump him right now.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“Maybe, like, a little.” 

Danny was astonished at her nonchalance at the question. When he was asked that about Jordon, it took all he had to go just melt into a blubbering mess. 

“We all thought you didn’t like him anymore.” 

“I’m a damn good liar.” 

Jordon skimmed over that - they all were good liars. “Once this is all over, you might have a damn good shot with him.” 

“But that means we have to to get through all this shit first.” 

“But once we are through it, it’s smooth sailing for days, son.” 

Vanessa decided that was enough of Jordan's ridiculousness, and turned to Danny. “How’re you, hon?” 

It took Jordon snapping his fingers in front of Danny’s face to realize he had been spoken too. “Shit, what?” 

Vanessa snorted. “How are you?” 

“I’m alright.” It’s not like anything had changed since she asked him that the first time. 

“You and Jordy good?”

Jordon jerked his head up, giving Vanessa a pointed stare. Which she thoroughly ignored. 

Danny smiled. “Yeah, we are.” At least, he liked to think they were. 

Vanessa awed, while Jordon blushed. 

“How’s the store doing?” He asked rather loudly, ducking his head down more than necessary to work on Vanessa’s tattoo. 

“Oh, my God! It’s doing so great! We’re creating a bunch of new products, they’re all  _ super _ cute, and Asia’s trying to find different ways to market our lines. We’re finally taking off!

Danny could practically see the passion she spoke with. 

“How’s Asia doing?” 

Vanessa’s smile morphed into a smirk. “She ran into George at the store the other day, hasn’t stopped talking about him since.”   
That made Jordon pause his work. “Asia’s into George? As in Johnny Three Tears? Big dude, loves butterflies and drunken fighting? That guy?” 

Vanessa nodded slowly. “That guy.” 

“Does she just have the worst taste in dudes?” 

“Georgie ain’t that bad, stop being the worst wingman in history.”   
“What?” 

“Are you an idiot? You have to get them together!” 

Jordon huffed. “Why the fuck do I have to do it? They’re grown-ups, they can handle their own shit.” 

Danny hummed in disagreement. “You should help them.” 

Vanessa grinned at him. “He gets it, Jordy. Just talk to Georgie about it, please?” 

“Not gonna lie, we all thought you and Asia were a thing.” 

“Everyone does,” Vanessa shrugged. “It’s usually not worth it to try and tell the truth, so we just let them think that.” 

“If only everyone thought like that, the world might be a better place.” 

“How?” 

Jordon paused. “Magic.” 

After another hour or so, Vanessa’s new tattoo was done. It was just a small piece of those plastic vampire fangs that you get on Halloween, but she seemed to like it a lot. She couldn’t stop hugging Jordon, almost messing up the plastic taped over it to protect it. 

“It looks amazing, Jordy, thank you so much!” 

“You’re welcome, man. Remember, anytime you need some ink, you just hit us up.” Jordon was quick to reciprocate her many hugs, grinning at her excitement. 

“You bet your ass I will, you guys are the best!” 

“I wouldn’t go that far-” 

“It’s the truth,” Danny interrupted, admiring Vanessa’s new tattoo just as much as she was. 

“Truth…” Vanessa echoed. Her smile faded, replaced with a contemplative stare. “I’ve heard that before.” 

Jordon raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s a pretty common word.” 

“No, the name Truth! A guy named Truth, someone we met, somewhere.” 

“Weren’t you looking for him before?”   
“I couldn’t find him,” Vanessa admitted, her voice tight as if it pained her to say that. “But… I swear…” She trailed off, looking back and forth between the two men. “You two were there, when I met him.” She nodded, confirming it to herself. “Yeah, you two were there.” 

“I sure as shit don’t remember a dude named Truth, and the only place Danny’s been was that party, at the Thieves’ mansion. Where he met you, and a thousand other people.” 

Danny tried, but he couldn’t remember anyone at that party named Truth. He tried not to think about the other events of the party; the memories were either frightening or inappropriate in this situation. 

Vanessa said nothing; she just seemed to zone out, trying to pick out a specific face from a sea of masks. She shook her head in frustration, sending her hair flying with how lively her motions were. 

“I have to go,” She announced, grabbing her bag and making a beeline for the door. “I’ll talk to you later, but I have to go!” She burst out the door, not bothering to look back as she ran to her car. 

Jordon turned to Danny, not really knowing what to make of that. “You hungry?” He asked. He couldn’t do anything about Vanessa - he knew as well as anyone that when she knew she was getting close to an answer, she wouldn’t stop searching - so he might as well move on. “I’m hungry.” 

Danny shrugged, deciding to follow the criminal’s lead and not worry about Vanessa. “I could eat.” 

 

The rest of the day went by rather quickly. The rest of the guys had shone up at the shop, bringing plenty of food from the fast food place a few blocks down. A few more customers had come in to get some ink done, and then before Danny knew it, it was time to close up the shop and head home. 

The guys then decided to have a movie night, watching cheap horror movies that were more funny than they were scary. Danny and Jordon took up one couch, sitting as close to each other as physically possible, while the other three sat on another couch, also cuddling together. 

George sat in the middle, arms around both Jorel and Dylan. It struck Danny as odd; he never really thought of George being a cuddler. He made a mental note to push Jordon to be his wingman for Asia again. 

They had barely gotten through the first movie before the door in the basement was thrown open, echoing throughout the house. 

The four criminals were immediately in action, hopping behind the couches in a flash. Danny was a bit slower; Jordon had to drag him over, almost throwing him onto the floor in his haste. 

A cock of a gun could be here, much to Danny’s surprise. A quick glance showed Jorel holding the weapon, carefully listening. The sight of the gun itself didn’t really shock Danny; he was mostly concerned about where the fuck the criminal got it from, as he certainly wasn’t carrying it on his person in the house. 

“Guys, it’s just me!” A distinctly feminine, a distinctly Vanessa-sounding voice called up, getting closer as she climbed the stairs. 

Every man audibly sighed, releasing the tension in their bodies in a flood. 

“Damnit, V, we could’ve shot you!” Jorel replied loudly, standing from behind the couch. 

Vanessa emerged from the staircase, looking worse than she had earlier. Her hair was tied up in a bun that was falling apart, and her clothes were wrinkled. She didn’t care, though, that much was evident. She just hurried to the center of the living room, glancing at each man before landing her gaze on Jorel. 

“I found Gadjet,” She announced, her eyes burning with a fiery excitement. 

“Why the fuck do we care about whoever the fuck Gadjet is?” Jorel asked, leaning his hands on the back of the couch. 

“I thought you were looking for Truth?” Jordon added. 

Vanessa shook her head, looking as if she had some sort of epiphany about that statement. “I got them confused, but that doesn’t matter. Truth and Gajet are both working for Aron.”

The air stilled. No one dared to move a muscle. 

Danny could practically see Jorel’s body turning to stone with how tense he was. 

“Are you certain?” George asked, glancing at his leader as he wanted to comfort him but didn’t know how.

Vanessa nodded once. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” 

“You found Aron?” Skepticism was clear in Dylan’s voice, as if he couldn’t believe the end was here so soon. 

“I did.” She spoke with full confidence, without any doubt clogging her mind. 

Jorel took a deep breath, disrupting the forced silence. His face was blank as stone, unreadable as ever. “Where is he?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa's tattoo is based off her instagram post here: https://www.instagram.com/p/BdzEZYYhIUm/?taken-by=horror.vixen
> 
> Also, I'm not quite sure but I have a feeling this story only has a few more chapters to go. I have a vague idea for the ending, but a very bare plan on how to get there. We'll see where it goes.


	20. A Sleepless Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing quite like forgoing sleep in favor of planning multiple homicides, you know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I had like eight different projects and tests and whatnot going on at school.  
> I hope you enjoy the chapter, I worked decently hard on it

No one got any sleep that night. 

Danny had a distinct feeling that sleep would not be making a regular appearance in the house for a long while. He went ahead and brewed enough coffee for a large crowd, while everyone else headed for the makeshift office on the third floor.

The office used to be Aron’s room. One day, while everyone else was out and about, George and Danny converted the room into a work space. Which meant by pulling the desk into the center of the room, stripping the bed down, and cleaning up the mess everywhere else. It wasn’t perfect, but it got the job done. 

As a rule, Danny tried to go into that room as little as possible. 

It was a physical manifestation of the crazed desire that each criminal had to find Aron and make him atone for his crimes, which was all good and just to Danny, he just preferred to not look their future in the eye. He could overlook plenty of misdeeds, but murder was pushing it for him. 

Even so, he knew from the beginning that this would only end with too much blood being spilled, and that office only served to keep that little fact in the back of everyone’s mind. So Danny avoided it at all costs. Except for tonight, it seemed. 

Everyone was piled into the room, circled around the desk as if it’s surface bore the secrets to life itself. Speaking over one another, raising volume to be heard over the other, interrupting with reckless abandon, most of them bickered like children. 

“We should go after him immediately.” 

“No, dumbass, we should wait.”

“Where the fuck even is he?” 

“What about his pathetic thugs?” 

“We should kill ‘em too, we don’t need ‘em.” 

“We should blow the damn place up. Eye for an eye.” 

“ _ Enough _ !” Jorel slammed his fist down onto the desk with enough force that it was most definitely going to bruise. At that moment, he couldn’t care less about it. “We have to think this shit through, piece by piece.” His leader voice was shining through; authoritative, and strong. Even if it wasn’t how he felt. 

Vanessa nodded, taking her own place directly across from him. “We can’t go in guns blazing, at least not until we know we can get away with it.”

No one questioned her participation in this; Danny worried for her safety, if she truly was going to be a part of this. He briefly wondered if  _ he _ was going to be a part of this. He couldn’t tell how he felt about that, so he pushed the thought out of his mind for now.

“If we’re off about this, even by one fucking spare bullet, we could all die,” Jorel told them, as if the situation weren’t grim enough. “This aint one of our usual fuckin’ jobs, we have to plan it to hell and back.” 

“How’re we gonna do that?” George asked, flicking his hands in irritation. “Do we want him dead or alive?” 

“Alive,” Jordon spoke with a stone-cold certainty. “He needs to pay.” 

And there was the side of these men that Danny knew he didn’t want to see. The vindictive side, the cruel side, the  _ murderous _ side. Up until this point, it had blissfully presented itself in Danny’s mind as a cautionary tale, not an actuality. Something spoken of to keep people in check, not something that actually existed. 

“Do you know their exact location?” Jorel looked to Vanessa, eyebrows raised in mild hope. 

Silently, George opened the laptop that had been sitting on the desk, then slid it over to her. 

“It’s a small house, in a run down neighborhood about two hours outside the other side of LA,” Vanessa told them, searching for it on the laptop. 

Danny found it impressive that she could type so well with how long her nails were. 

Dylan began tapping his fingers against the table. “Who all is in his crew?” 

“Yuma, Gadjet, and Truth,” Vanessa said. “Those are the main ones, there’ve been a few low-lifes, but they didn’t last too long.” She turned the laptop around, and pushed it back to Jorel. “They’re all living there, in a half-abandoned neighborhood.” 

“If they’re in a neighborhood, we can’t just blow the damn thing up,” George remarked. He was gripping the edge of the desk tight enough his knuckles to turn white. “No matter how shitty it is.” 

Too much attention, Danny reasoned. Everyone would want to report a house mysteriously being blown to bits.

“What other options are there?” Jordon asked with narrowed eyes. 

“What about a find-and-retrieve kinda thing?” Danny suggested. 

Suddenly, five pairs of eyes were on him within a single moment. He almost shrank back from it all, but he reminded himself that he had no reason to. 

“You get in, kill the crew, get Aron, and get out,” he continued, forcing himself make eye contact with Jorel. “It’s simple, and quick, and quiet, if you do it right.” 

“He’s right,” Vanessa agreed. “This isn’t about theatrics right now, this is about getting Aron.” 

“How many silencers do we have?” Jordon asked softly. Even if it wasn’t what he wanted to do, he knew Danny was right. It made him a little proud, to be honest. He was proud of his man. 

“Not enough,” Jorel said. “But we can get more. And we’ll need to get the van out of the compound, but… it’s doable. It’s definitely doable.” 

George stood a little taller, releasing his death grip from the desk. “All in favor of a stealth mission?” 

A chorus of “aye’s” met his question. 

“All who oppose?” 

Silence. 

“Then it’s settled,” Jorel said. “We move fast, do what we need to do, and get out.”

“That’s what she said,” Jordon muttered under his breath, quiet enough that only Danny could hear. 

Danny couldn’t help but to snicker at that. 

The rest of the night was filled with careful planning. Danny couldn’t stand it - despite knowing that he would probably be a part of the plan somehow, he just didn’t want to sit through the whole process. So he ran about for the rest of the night, bringing up whatever was asked of him, be it food, drinks, plans, weapons, drugs, whatever. 

It was well into the night, nearing three in the morning, until a break was needed. Everyone dispersed, off to the their own place in the house. Vanessa and Jay went to the kitchen, George and Dylan went to the living room, and Danny followed Jordon up to the roof. 

“How’s it going?” Danny asked, making sure to shut the door behind them. 

Jordon just shrugged as he sat down on the asphalt, near the edge facing the city. “We’re getting there.” He dug into his pants’ pocket, and brought out a pack of cigarettes and a purple lighter. He lit two of them at once, then handed one to Danny. 

Danny took it without question. 

The two of them sat in silence, smoking and observing the city line. It was peaceful, but  a tense kind of peaceful. The kind where you know it’s going to end too soon, so you don’t want to lose yourself in it. Temporary, but nice. 

Once Danny had finished his cigarette - much later than Jordon had - he let out a quiet sigh. 

“Are you okay, love?” He whispered, letting his hand wander closer to the criminal.  _ His _ criminal. 

Jordon shrugged, looking Danny in the eyes with a tired yet forceful sort of conviction. “It feels weird, baby.”   
Before Danny could panic about what that meant, Jordon took his hand, holding it tightly. 

“Planning this whole thing,” he elaborated. “It feels weird.” 

“What kind of weird?” 

“I guess I never really thought it would happen,” Jordon admitted, ducking his head in shame. “I never figured Aron would let this happen.” 

Danny cocked his head. “What makes you think he’s letting this happen?” 

“It feels too easy.” 

“Maybe he’s just getting careless.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.” 

“You think this is a trap?” It was meant to be a question, but it definitely didn’t sound like one.

Jordan's hand twitched. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I don’t want  _ you _ to get hurt.” 

Danny tightened his grip on the man’s hand, and pulled himself closer. “I won’t be the one in the middle of a firefight,” he reminded his lover. “I’m the one who should be worrying about you, not the other way around.” 

“I guess. I don’t want you to worry about me, though.” 

Danny scoffed at that. “We’re way past that, love.” 

“You’re right.” Jordon squeezed the blonde’s hand a little tighter, as if reminding himself of his presence. 

“I’m always right.” 

“If you say so, baby.” 

“I do. I do say so.” Danny leaned in for a quick kiss, only to be interrupted by the door being thrown open. 

“Let’s go, hoebags!” Dylan shouted, leaving the door wide open and heading back into the house. 

Jordon and Danny shared an annoyed look before getting up and going inside. 

 

It was a few hours later - sunlight was filtering through all the windows at this point - by the time the majority of everyone fell had passed out from exhaustion. 

Dylan had made it his room, but he was the only one. George, Vanessa, and even Jordon all fell asleep on the couches when they sat down to just take a break for a few minutes. 

Danny was so damn close to just flopping onto Jordon's bed and calling it a day, but he didn’t want to sleep yet. Not when someone else was still awake, on their thousandth cup of coffee, and still working too hard. 

“Jay?” Danny peeked his head into the office, and was met with exactly what he suspected he would find. 

Jorel was leaning against the desk, his arms visibly shaking, jerking his head up periodically to focus on the papers before him and not on how much he just wanted to sleep. 

He didn’t turn at his name being called. He might not have even heard it. 

Danny entered the room, making sure to shut the door louder than necessary, but that still didn’t draw the leader’s attention. Danny walked over, sidestepping papers thrown on the floor in anger, and let his hand rest on the criminal’s shoulder.

Jorel jerked away from his hand, looking at Danny with heavily blinking eyes. “What’re you doing here, kitten? You should be asleep.” Exhaustion slurred his words ever so slightly. 

“I’ll sleep when you sleep.” Danny took Jay’s hand, lightly tugging it towards the door. “Come on, you need to go to bed.” 

He half-heartedly yanked his hand back. “I’ll go to bed when I fuckin’ wanna go to bed.” 

“Jay, you need sleep-” 

“I can’t!” Jorel’s sudden volume shocked even himself. He shrank a little, ducking his head to the table. “I can’t sleep until we have a solid plan.” 

“You can’t form a plan when you’re delirious, Jorel. You need to sleep in order to think, so go to bed. I’m not taking no for an answer on this.” 

Maybe Jorel could tell that he meant business, or maybe he was just too tired to argue, but he nodded his head in acceptance. “Okay.” 

Danny didn’t bother to wait for him to change his mind; he just immediately began leading Jorel to his bedroom. Thankfully, it didn’t require the traversing of any staircases, otherwise they both would’ve tripped and broken several bones and/or things. 

“You want some pj’s?” Danny asked, heading for the dresser.

“I can just sleep in my clothes.” Jorel flopped onto his bed, face first. 

Danny shook his head. “You aren’t sleeping in jeans.” He found some pajama bottoms - purple plaid, to be specific - and tossed them to the leader. “Put these on, or so help me.” 

“Cool it, I’ll fuckin’ put them on.” Jorel grumbled, pushing himself back up so he could change into the pajamas. Once he was done, he threw his jeans onto the floor, and gave Danny a pointed glare, as exhausted as it was. “You happy?” 

“I am. Goodnight, Jay.” Danny began to head for the door. 

“Wait, kitten-” Jorel stopped himself, and shook his head. “Nevermind.” 

Danny tilted his head. “What is it?” His voice softened, almost into a whisper. 

“N-nothing.” 

“Jay.” 

Jorel looked up with helpless eyes. “Would you… will you stay?”

Danny didn’t take long to decide. He knew he wouldn’t be able to share the couch with Jordon - they simply wouldn’t fit - so he was going to have to sleep alone. Well, not anymore, it seemed. A sleepover was more than welcome right now. 

“Sure, but you gotta scoot your ass over.” 

Jorel huffed, but obliged. “Dick.” 

“Shut up.” Danny laid on the bed, next to Jorel. He made sure they both had enough of the blankets while Jorel switched off the lights. 

The two of them lie, facing each other. Danny noted how unbelievably drained Jorel looked; both mentally and physically, he just looked… empty. It was unsettling. 

Jorel seemed to be looking at Danny, but his eyes were hazy. He seemed like he was in an entirely dimension, thousands of leagues away. 

Danny reached his hand out, finding Jorel’s and holding it tightly between their pillows. Very slowly, Jorel’s eyes wandered over to their linked hands, then back to Danny’s. 

His eyes said a silent thank you. 

Danny hoped his own eyes were conveying a silent you’re welcome.

Neither of them said goodnight. They just drifted off, peacefully, without struggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm gonna keep up the bromance type shit between Danny and the rest of the guys, even if it is mainly with Jay right now. We'll see


	21. Shots and stress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This definitely qualifies as one of the worst days of Danny's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, action scenes are not my forte... unintentional rhyming there.  
> Possible trigger warning: LOTS of blood ahead, not super descriptive but it's there  
> I hope y'all enjoy!

“Are you ready for this?” 

Danny shook his head. “Not really.” 

Jordon chuckled, an empty, breathless sound. “Me either,” He admitted. “But it’s time.” 

He scanned the blonde over one last time, making sure that everything was in place. “At least you look cute.” 

Danny scoffed; he was told to wear a black long-sleeved shirt, black cargo pants, and boots. It wasn’t his normal attire, but he wasn’t given much of a choice. At least it was all comfortable to wear, considering he had to borrow the pants and boots from Jorel. Could be worse. 

“Let’s just go,” Danny said, rolling his shoulders in discomfort. He just wanted to get this shitshow over with. 

“Hold on, you forgot something.” 

Danny furrowed his brows, and checked himself. “What?” 

Jordon went over to the wardrobe, and pulled out a shoebox. He brought it over to Danny, and flipped the lid. Inside was his mask, angled so the golden paint reflected the ceiling light; it just made the mask all the more mesmerizing. 

Danny took the mask, grinning a little as he slipped it on. No matter how many times he put it on, he would always be shocked by how damn perfect it fit him. It was as if he were made to wear it. 

At the same time, Jordon had put on his shades, letting his bandanna rest around his neck for now. When he looked back at Danny, he let out one of those cat-call whistles. 

“Damn, you look hot, baby.” 

Danny sighed, even though he could feel his cheeks burning. He pushed his mask up so it rested over his hair, and rested his hands on his hips. “And here I thought you liked me for more than my looks.” 

“You know damn well I adore everything about you,” Jordon reminded him, stepping a bit closer. 

Danny tilted his head. “I love you too, but if we’re done being sappy, I’d like to get this over with.” 

“Woah there.” Jordon stepped right up in Dann’ys personal space, slipping his arms around Danny’s waist, meeting his eyes with a sly grin. “Don’t I get a goodluck kiss?” 

Danny rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“So is that a no?” 

“Of course not,” Danny leaned forward, pressing their lips together for a short, chaste kiss. 

He pulled away quickly, leaving Jordon wanting more. 

“If we get back alive, you can get a better kiss,” Danny promised, placing his hand on his criminal’s cheek. 

Jordon bit his lip, and cocked an eyebrow. “Anything else, or just a kiss?” 

“Who knows?” Danny slipped out of his grasp, and headed for the door. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

 

Jorel stood by his bed, attempting to fix his holster on by himself for the first time in a few years. An unnamed weaselly man had always done it for him in the past, but this was the present.

Vanessa sat on the bed, her back against the wall and Tiger on her lap. She was absentmindedly petting the cat while watching the criminal struggle with the buckles.

“Want some help?” She asked, holding back a smirk. 

“No, I got this,” Jorel muttered, turning his back to her. He would never admit to anyone that he may not, in fact, have got this. 

Vanessa just watched for a few more moments before deciding for herself that he needed help. She gently nudged the cat of her lap, and stood up. She placed her hands on Jorel’s wrists to push his hands away, unable to hide her grimace when she felt the bandages underneath his sleeves. 

George had filled her in on why those were there; it was just one more reason for her to worry about Jorel doing this job, and the effects it might have on him. She pushed the thought back, moving her hands to the holster with more force than necessary.

“Maybe you should get a velcro holster,” She suggested with a forced smile. 

“I don’t need your help,” Jorel insisted. He didn’t do anything to stop her, though. 

“Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” She asked, purposefully keeping her eyes away from his as she tightened the buckles as it was needed.

Jorel shook his head, watching as she made sure everything fit well. He couldn’t afford to have anything go wrong, so he wanted to be sure she was doing it right. “Could anyone ever really be okay to do something like this?” 

“Are you gonna be alright?” Vanessa asked a bit more deliberately, letting her hand rest on his chest. She forced herself to meet his gaze, and to her surprise, he held it. 

His eyes were blank, though; no emotion shined through. “I’ll be fine, V, just worry about yourself.” 

It wasn’t a cold dismissal, just a cautious warning.

“You watch yourself too, Jay. There’s no glory in going out with a bang, not right now.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Vanessa reached over, picking up the mask that sat on the bed. She held it out, deciding to let Jorel put it on himself. 

He just held it, looking at it as if were poisonous. Suddenly, the blood running from the eyes wasn’t so cool anymore; it hit a bit too close to home, if he were being honest with himself. 

Jorel looked back at Vanessa, his lips pressed into a line. 

“I think after this, we’re gonna have to get new masks.” He didn’t have to explain why to her.

Vanessa nodded a little. “We can do that. But we gotta back alive first.” 

“Deal.” 

 

“Is it wrong to be looking forward to this?” George asked, strapping on his mask with indifference, as he was without a care in the world.

Dylan chuckled, checking his gun for the fourth time in the span of five minutes. “You’re fucked up, homie.” 

“You telling me you ain’t ready to put that bitch in the fucking dirt?” 

“I’m telling you that you shouldn’t be fuckin’ happy about this shit.” 

“I wouldn’t call it happy-” 

“Just shut up, Georgie. Do us all a favor, and shut your mouth.” Dylan spoke with a smile, betraying his intended-to-be-harsh words. 

George smirked, and picked up his own guns from the table. “Says the one who always tries to smoke in the middle of a job.” 

“Fuck you, I get nervous.” 

“Dilly? Nervous? Not likely, not without his trusty pre-show shots. What’s it today? Vodka or whiskey?” 

Dylan scoffed. “I ain’t doing that shit today, roll again.” 

“For once, you’re going in sober?” 

“Can’t afford to fuck this up, homie.”

George sighed, revealing the only hint of his inner turmoil for the evening. “Ain’t that the truth.”  

 

“Here, Danny.” Jorel held a gun in his palm as if it meant nothing. It was just a pistol, fit with a silencer and everything. “Just in case shit goes wrong.” 

Danny took it, gingerly holding the weapon as if the metal burned his hand to the touch. He almost wished he still didn’t know how to handle a gun - Jordon had briefly given him lessons this morning. He really wanted no part of any of this, but he didn’t have a choice. He had to help, if he wanted to be sure that his love and his friends to come back alive. 

So that meant that he had been given the wonderful job of the designated driver. He didn’t even have to apply for the job. No paper application, no awkward job interview, none of that. 

Danny held the keys to the van in his hand, gripping them so tightly his knuckles were turning white. 

He jumped when he felt an arm snake around his waist, only to calm when he realized whose it was. 

“You’re gonna do fine, baby,” Jordon soothed, rubbing little circles with his thumb on Danny’s hip. 

“I don’t wanna fuck this up,” he admitted, pressing himself further into Jordan's side.

“You won’t. You’re gonna do great, and this whole thing will go smoothly.” 

“You’re gonna fuckin’ jinx us all, you prick!” Dylan shouted from across the garage. 

Jorel smacked the side of the van, swiftly getting everyone’s attention. “It’s showtime, everyone! Get in the fucking car!” 

Not a single word was spoken during the entire drive. Danny just turned on the radio, tuning to the first rock station he found, and drove. 

Jordon sat in the passenger seat, to keep Danny company. He kept trying to pick at his cuticles, but Danny wouldn't let him; he held the criminal’s hand for as much of the drive as he could, even though he should probably have kept both hands on the wheel. 

Jorel and Vanessa sat in the next row of seats; both just looked outside their respective window the entire time. Jorel was completely still, more so than a statue. Vanessa rested her hand on his wrist, her thumb circling the knuckle of his. 

George and Dylan shared the last row of seats, sitting very close together; Dylan was resting his head on George’s shoulder, and his eyes were closed. George just looked out the window, occasionally bobbing his head to the music. 

Danny wondered if there was a certain quota for insanely uncomfortable car rides that he had to meet in his lifetime. He definitely had to be meeting it at this point. 

After three hours and a bathroom break at the tiniest gas station Danny had ever seen, they had arrived.

He parked the van a few houses down from the target, and turned to face the rest of the group.

“Does everyone know what to do?” Jorel asked one last time as he fixed his mask over his face. 

“Get in, kill everyone, get the horse, and get out,” Jordon summed up, checking the silencer on his pistol one last time. 

“Johnny, Funny, you got the smoke bombs?” Jorel asked, slipping into their fake names as if it were nothing. 

“All four of em, boss.” Dylan answered easily. 

“V, you good with covering us?” 

Vanessa merely nodded; she brought her mask too, the spiral checkerboard thing that made Danny’s eyes hurt. 

“Are you okay with waiting for us?” Jordon asked, directing his attention to the blonde sitting extremely still in the driver’s seat. 

“Yes,” Danny answered, holding his head high. 

“You aren’t gonna come chasing after us, no matter what?” 

“Yes.” 

“You will never leave the safety of this van, right?”

“Yes.” 

Jordon gave him one last look, then turned to the leader. 

Jorel took a deep breath, and placed his hand on the door handle. “Let’s do this.” 

 

The plan was simple. With five people and enough bullets to take down a small crowd, it should’ve gone off without a hitch. 

But when does anything go the way it’s supposed to, right? 

The first stage of the plan went smoothly. The group all made their way around to the back of the house, just as planned. 

They all entered the house through the cracked sliding glass door that led into the overgrown backyard, just as planned. 

There wasn’t a single person on the bottom floor of the house, not as planned. 

“They’re all upstairs,” Jorel whispered, unhelpfully. 

“What if this is an ambush?” George hissed. 

“Then we fucking deal. Get the smoke bomb ready.” 

“Jay-” 

“Get it fucking ready!” Jorel just barely managed to not raise his voice. It took most of his willpower. “Throw it up the stairs on my count. Funny, get the other ready.” 

“Got it.” 

“Everyone, hold your breath as soon as I light it,” George ordered, taking out the homemade smoke bomb - his personal recipe - and a lighter. 

Jorel gestured for George to follow him; the two men crept over to the staircase sheltered away in the corner of the house. 

The top floor was a short hallway with a bathroom and three bedrooms leading off it. Who knew where the fuck their targets were in those rooms.

Everyone else readied their guns. Jordon stood by the door, where he was to wait and guard.

Jorel held up three fingers. Then two. Then one. Then none. 

George clicked his lighter, lit the fuse, and threw the smoke bomb up the stairs. They heard the thump of landing. 

“What the fuck is that?” An unknown voice shouted. “What the  _ fuck  _ is that?” 

“ _ Shut up!”  _ Another voice shouted. A painfully familiar, painfully nasally voice. 

Jorel began heading up the stairs, ignoring the little voice screaming in the back of his head that he would die for this. He sensed George following him very closely, and took a small comfort in that. He knew George would rather be back in the van, keeping watch with a rifle instead, but they needed all hands on deck for this. 

Jorel paused near the top of the staircase, and listened. He heard the smoke bomb still doing it’s thing, filling the entire floor slowly with its white haze. 

George pressed himself to the wall next to the leader, waiting for his command. 

Vanessa and Dylan waited at the bottom of the stairs. 

On Jorel’s mark, all hell broke loose. 

 

Danny lit another cigarette. He was already on his sixth, and the only end in sight would be when he emptied the pack. This was the first time in his life he was chain smoking, and he hated it. He hated the feeling of the smoke burning his lungs. He could practically  _ feel _ the tar seeping into his body, infecting him from the inside out. 

But he could also feel the nicotine buzzing through his system, bringing one small comfort. 

He had to just sit in the van, and wait. Just fucking wait for the possibility that the man he loved could be struck down. That everyone he loved could be struck down. 

That he’d be left alone in the world, with nothing left. With no one left. Just like before.

He lit his seventh cigarette. 

Bright flashes of light lit up the windows of the house. Danny clenched his free hand around the wheel. 

Shots were being fired. The street was silent, but it must be chaos within the house. And all Danny could do was sit and fucking watch. 

He sent a silent prayer to anyone who was listening. He prayed that if no one else, that his love would be alright. 

It was a selfish prayer, but there was nothing he wanted more. If everyone else must die, so be it. Just let Jordon live. 

Danny couldn’t recall any other time when he’d thought such things and meant them. He didn’t want anyone else to die; not Vanessa, not Dylan, not George, not Jorel. They didn’t deserve to die. 

But the world wasn’t fair. If they all died, Danny would mourn. 

But if Jordon died... Danny would break. 

So he prayed for his love to live. And then he lit his eighth cigarette. 

 

Jorel couldn’t remember a time when a job had gone this poorly. Not even when he and George went on their first mission together, and had to shoot up a room of ten men with only four guns between the two of them. They had both ended up with several gunshot wounds that night, and it took way too long for them to heal. But they had still gotten the job in a more or less organized fashion. 

This, however. This was pure anarchy. 

Jorel was vaguely aware of George having fallen behind, shooting into one room with more fury than he’d ever seen. 

Dylan was still by his side, firing off into another room. Vanessa was behind them, pressed against the wall and trying to cover them as best as she could. 

Bullets were peppering the walls around all of them; they were being ambushed, but no one could see anything. 

“Light it!” Jorel shouted, slamming himself into the wall between two rooms. 

Dylan clicked his lighter, and lit the second smoke bomb. He threw it into the farthest room, where it thunked against the wall. 

Coughing erupted from each room. The bullets stopped coming. 

 

Danny tensed as he saw smoke pouring out of a window from the top floor of the house. He knew it was getting closer to the end; sooner rather than later, he’d be driving home whoever was left. 

He made it a point to save six cigarettes for the drive home. He was trying to stop himself from smoking another for a little while. But seeing the smoke pour out, and the flashes from the silenced guns pause, Danny couldn’t help himself. 

He lit his ninth cigarette. 

 

Jordon was listening to the chaos upstairs with bated breath. He promised Danny he’d come back to him, so he was to take the safest job; keeping watch, like a goddamn coward.

But if being a coward meant that he would return to his love, then so be it. 

He heard the second smoke bomb being thrown, heard the coughing of several people stop, heard the gunshots cease. 

He tightened his grip on his own pistol. 

The shots started again; dull thuds as the bullets hit walls, floors, even people. 

Someone screamed; it sounded unfamiliar. A heavy thump as the body hit the floor. 

Another scream, but this one was feminine. Vanessa must’ve been hit; Jordon almost left his post to go check, but he knew he couldn’t. 

He stayed by the damn door. 

More shots rang out upstairs. 

Jordon kept his eye on the staircase; smoke continued to pour out of it. This couldn’t continue for too long; the others would be forced to breathe in the smoke. It could kill them if they weren’t careful. 

They should’ve gotten actual gas masks, instead of the ones with their stupid branding. 

Jordon didn’t see the man coming down the stairs; he just felt something hit his leg. 

He jerked, falling onto his knee; he raised his pistol, firing a quick three shots at the imposter. He knew he hit the dumbass; he could hear the body as it hit the stairs. 

The pain started; it burned, it burned worse than anything ever could. Pure fire spread through his veins, igniting his entire being with agonizing torture. 

Jordon used his belt to make a tourniquet, almost screaming throughout the entire process from just how damn  _ much  _ it hurt.

He stayed by the door. 

 

Something in Danny’s subconscious told him that something bad had happened. He didn’t know what, or why, or to whom it had happened, but it wasn’t good. 

He glanced to the pistol that was sitting in his lap. He hated the sight of the damn thing, but he had to carry to it. 

He considered saying fuck it, and going into the damn house. He couldn’t stand not knowing what has happening to the closest thing he’d ever had to a true family. 

He’d rather be told they were all gunned down then never know what actually happened. It was an entirely new kind of torture he’d never experienced. 

God, he hated it. 

He let his hand rest on the car door; he almost opened it. 

But he didn’t. 

He lit his tenth cigarette instead. 

 

Dylan was regretting his choice of not taking his pre-mission shots right now. Vodka would’ve helped his fraying nerves immensely. 

Shooting into smoke-filled rooms, trying not to breathe in the smoke himself, knowing that Vanessa had gotten shot, it was all too much. 

His own lungs were threatening to collapse on him; whether it was from the anxiety or the toxic smoke, he couldn’t tell. 

He just kept shooting, taking cover by the wall between reloads. 

Something hit his shoulder, throwing his arm back with the force. The agonizing pain flared throughout his body, but he kept shooting. 

He hit whoever shot him; he heard the body drop. 

Jorel got hit; it wasn’t bad, but it still wasn’t a good sign. Their leader was shot, and it was now or never.

 

The flashes of the gunshots were slowly stopping. Danny watched, sitting more still than he ever had in his life. He couldn’t even be bothered to light another cigarette. Every ounce of his attention was hyper-focused on that house. 

 

Jorel didn’t waste any time. He couldn’t afford to; his lungs felt as if they were being crushed. He fired his last few bullets into the main room. 

He knew he hit something; he heard the last man grunt, and fall. 

“Go, go  _ go! _ ” He shouted at the others. 

George bolted into the last room, leaving a trail in the smoke. Dylan followed him, hot on his tail. 

“He’s hit!” George yelled triumphantly. “We got him!” 

“Vanessa, get the blood!” Jorel took the spray bottle at his belt, and began spraying the walls wherever there was crimson with ammonia. He knew Vanessa did the same, even though he couldn’t see her. 

He couldn’t tell whose blood was whose, but he sprayed every damn bit. 

“Let’s go!” Dylan shouted, emerging from the room. George was right behind him, their target slung over his shoulders. 

Jorel led the way back downstairs, almost tripping over a body at the bottom. He saw Jordon leaning heavily on the wall, and figured what happened. 

He didn’t waste a second in rushing to Jordon, slinging his arm over his shoulder and escaping the now-thoroughly poisonous house. 

The fresh air felt like a blessing to his body. Toxic smoke, blood, and ammonia don’t go well together. 

 

Danny almost his head on the roof when he saw the group jogging across the street. He couldn’t tell who was who - it was too damn dark - but he counted six people heading for him. 

One was limping, and another was being carried, but there was definitely six. The mission was successful, at least at first glance. 

Danny started the van, and hopped out. 

“How’d it go?” He asked, rushing to the back to open side door. 

“Fucking awful,” Jorel answered curtly, heading around to the passenger seat. 

Only then did it click that he was carrying Jordon. 

Danny quickly followed him, fighting the urge to shove the leader aside to check on his love. “Holy shit, are you alright? What the fuck happened? We need to get you to a hospital-” 

“Baby!” Jordon shouted, grunting as he was plopped in the seat. “I’ll be fine, just help them!” 

Danny swallowed his many protests with a nod. He went over to the where the others were, just in time for George to throw the skeleton man he was carrying onto the floor of the van. 

Aron groaned, but didn’t otherwise move. Danny clenched his jaw at the sight of him. 

The rest of the group piled into the van; Danny returned to the driver’s seat, and sped off. 

“Are we gonna dose him this time?” Dylan asked from the back, breathing heavily and gripping his shoulder. 

Jorel shook his head; he was pressing his hands into his side. Blood was covering his hands. “He doesn’t need it.” 

He was right; Aron wasn’t moving, not even a little. He was probably unconscious. Metal cuffs bound his wrists together.

“Is everyone else dead?” Danny asked, glancing up at the rearview mirror every now and then. Just to be sure that they were all alive. 

“Every last one of them,” George answered with a grim smile. He seemed to be the only one who wasn’t hurt. 

Danny looked to his love. “Are you alright?” 

Jordan waved him off, grimacing as the van hit a bump in the road. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Even when in pain from being fucking shot in the leg, he was still grinning. “Do I get that kiss now?” 

“Not when I’m driving, asshole.” 

“God, you guys are disgusting,” Dylan remarked, leaning his head on the seat. 

“Says you,” Danny retorted. “You all smell awful.” 

“You didn’t have to go through that fucking smoke,” Vanessa piped up for the first time. “God, I forgot how bad that shit smells.” 

“The cops are gonna have a good fucking time with that,” George chuckled. 

“Danny, you remember where we’re going?” Jorel asked, leaning forward as much as he could. 

Danny nodded. “Warehouse that’s an hour from here, I got it. It’s not like I was going for ice cream or anything.” 

“Damn, that sounds good right now,” Jordon muttered, shutting his eyes as another bump in the road jostled his leg. 

“Are there medical supplies at the warehouse?” Danny asked, ignoring the fact that ice cream did sound really good. “How many of you are hurt?” 

“All of us, and yes,” Jorel grumbled. 

“There’s enough there to supply a small hospital,” George added, keeping his eyes on the skeleton man still passed out on the floor. 

“And we’re probably going to have to get more after all this,” Vanessa said, her voice sounding strained. 

“But it doesn’t matter,” Jorel said. “Because we fucking did it. We fucking got him.”

 

The rest of the night was a blur of crimson and suffering. 

Danny and George had to carry everyone into the new warehouse. 

Then, they had to treat everyone’s wounds. This was the part Danny was looking forward to the least. It had to take place in the grimy little kitchen, where there was barely enough space for the appliances and the plastic chair where the “patient” would sit.

Vanessa went first, since her wound was the most severe. 

Danny stood to the side, hoping to delay his forced participation for as long as possible. 

He watched as Georgen placed a clothing iron on one burner of the rusty gas stove, and used another to heat something up, and fill up a needle with it. He watched as George injected Vanessa with whatever drug that was. 

He shuddered to think that maybe it was the same drug they used on him that first night in their company. 

He saw George take out a pair of insanely clean pliers, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He gestured for Danny to come over. 

George held her down while Danny had to dig the bullet out of Vanessa’s side. There was so much blood, he was on the verge of fainting the entire time. 

Then, George handed Danny the heated clothing iron. 

“Press firmly until I say so,” George told him. 

“And hurry the fuck up!” Jorel shouted from the living room, followed by a fit of coughing. 

Danny swallowed thickly; his throat had been threatening to close on him since they got to the warehouse. With jerky motions, he pressed the iron to Vanessa’s side. 

Even in her doped state, Vanessa let out a scream. A eardrum-bursting, blood-curdling scream that would haunt Danny’s nightmares for the rest of his life. 

“Now!” George shouted. 

Danny yanked his hand back, dropping the bloody iron onto the floor. Blood sizzled on the edges. 

George began dressing the wound. Danny took the iron to the sink, and rinsed it off. Watching the blood turn the water pink, hearing the water sizzle on the heated metal, even smelling flesh burning, it was all to much. 

Danny barely managed to set the iron onto the burner before he shoved his face into the sink, and threw up. He puked harder than he ever had before in his life; he felt as if his body were trying to purge everything, from his organs to his blood. 

He puked until he felt drained, completely empty, like a goddamn raisin. He was covered in sweat, and trembling like a chihuahua left out in the cold. He turned to George, who gave him an unsympathetic frown. 

“You done? We still have three more to go, you gonna pass out on me?” 

It was only then that Danny noticed Jorel was sitting where Vanessa had been. George must’ve carried her into the living room to rest. 

From the looks of it, Jorel was already doped up. George was holding the pliers out, an eyebrow raised. 

Danny grit his teeth, pushed every thought in his mind away, and took the pliers. 

Jorel only got shot in his upper arm; that was easy enough. 

When it got to using the iron on him, he just grunted, grabbing onto Danny’s arm and squeezing with enough force that Danny felt his bones might snap. 

Dylan was next, with a bullet to the shoulder that had gone through and through. When he got the iron, he laughed. A crazed, adrenaline-spiked laugh that Danny never wanted to hear again. 

When they finally got to Jordon, Danny was reaching his limit. 

He made George use the iron this time; he couldn’t bear to cause his love such pain. 

Although, having to hold Jordon down wasn’t any better. Danny could  _ feel _ just how much pain his lover was going through, and could do nothing about. It was agony, for the both of them. 

Luckily, it was over soon enough. 

Danny helped George carry everyone back to the living room. But the job still wasn’t finished. 

They dug out a bucket and mop from the closet in the living room, and started mopping up the kitchen. 

The odor of burnt flesh, too much copper, and cleaning solution sent Danny’s stomach over the edge again. He barely made it to the sink before he voided his entire body. He wasn’t even sure what he was puking out this time, he just knew that when his body deemed itself pure, his throat burned and he was all sweaty again. 

He really needed a shower.

By the time the kitchen was clean enough for George’s satisfaction, Danny was sure he was sleep walking. Everything was muted, even his own exhaustion. 

He barely noticed George taking his arm and leading him up a flight of stairs - which took a lot longer to traverse than normally - and into a bedroom. 

“We don’t have any pajamas here,” George told him, setting him on the bed. 

Danny didn’t bother to reply; his brain couldn’t even fully process a reply. He just took off his shirt and shoes, and climbed under the fluffy blanket that was lying on the bed. 

He could feel the bed dip when George laid down next to him, and the pure heat radiating from the man. 

Danny flipped himself onto his other side, and scooted closer to the criminal. 

George let the blonde snuggle right up to him, and even let his arm rest around his shoulder. 

Danny hummed comfortably as he rested his head on George’s chest; the comfort of the bed immediately wiped away any discomfort in his body. 

“You did good today,” George murmured, pressing a light kiss to the top of Danny’s head. 

Danny couldn’t come up with a reply, he was already too far gone into the land of slumber. But, if he could, he would’ve said “I did well, not good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points to who can guess the movie that served as hella inspiration for pretty much this whole chapter


	22. So Many Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The so-called solution to everyone's problems isn't working out the way it should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but I'm trying my best to find time to write, but it ain't really happening so chapters are probably just going to come out every two weeks for a while.  
> As for this particular chapter, there was more I wanted to include but couldn't find a good way to work it all in. This chapter is kinda iffy, but I tried my best to make it readable.  
> That being said, i hope y'all enjoy!

Danny woke the next morning tn a flurry of ache. His everything was sore; his legs, his arms, his back, even his eyes were sore. 

He was also pretty sure he gave himself a nicotine addiction with all that chain-smoking last night. But whatever, he had bigger issues to deal with. 

Like the fact that he was still being cuddled by a space heater in the form of George, and it was much too hot for that right now. 

Deciding on a stealth approach, Danny tried sliding out from between George’s arms, but the criminal merely tightened his grip, preventing his escape. 

Danny then tried wriggling to get free, but again, it was as if George’s arms were one of those Chinese finger traps, where the more you struggle, the more stuck you got. 

“Five more minutes,” George mumbled out of nowhere, burying his face into the crook of Danny’s neck. 

“You asshole, you’re awake?” Danny couldn’t back his words with actual annoyance, not like he wanted to.

“Five more minutes,” George repeated, as if he were intoxicated. 

“No, let me up. I want to shower, I’m disgusting.” 

“Can I shower with you?” George asked, finally lifting his arms so Danny could move. 

“As long as you aren’t expecting any action, sure.” 

“Please, I’m way too tired for that shit. Besides, I’d ask nicely first.”

“Sure you would.” Danny rolled off the bed, barely landing on his feet. His head swam and his vision pulsed, but other than that, he was mostly fine. “I’ll go check on the others first, you get the shower started.” 

“Hurry or I’m gonna use all the hot water.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Try me.” 

Danny huffed, and hurried out the door. 

He didn’t know too much about this warehouse, but he did know that he liked the other one better. This one was much smaller; only three floors, including the grimy basement. The first floor only had a living room, kitchen, and dining room, while the second floor had only two bedrooms and a small bathroom. 

Definitely not the definition of luxury. Danny hoped they wouldn’t be staying here too long. 

After a very slow traversing of the stairs, he found himself in the living room, where the rest of the group were all slung over the three couches that filled up the cramped space. 

Danny immediately gravitated towards Jordon, unable to help himself. His lover looked worse than he’d ever seen him. 

Jordon was pale, and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Even in his sleep, he was twitching lightly, as if his body knew he was supposed to be pain. 

Danny rested his hand on Jordan's, surprised to find his lover was much warmer than he should’ve been. 

What if his wound was infected? What he lost too much blood? What if he was in a coma? 

The others didn’t look much better. Vanessa and Jorel somehow ended up on the same couch, close but not quite, as if they tried to cuddle but started to overheat. Again, they were pale and slightly sweaty. Dylan was the same, resting on his stomach on the last couch. 

Danny heard George’s heavy footsteps down the stairs, and turned quickly. 

“Are they gonna be alright?” He demanded, squeezing Jordon's hand lightly, so as to not disturb his slumber. 

George nodded, looking at Danny with reassurance glittering in his sky blue eyes. “They’ll live, Dan. They might be shock, and woozy from blood loss, but they’ll be alright.” 

Danny still wasn’t convinced. He looked back to his lover, not reacting when he felt George’s warm hand rest on his shoulder. 

“Come on, lion. The shower’s running, all the hot water’s gonna be gone.” 

“Okay.” Danny reluctantly let go of Jordon’s hand, following the other criminal back up the stairs.

George could sense the tension building in the blonde’s shoulders, even once they were both stripped and under the spout of almost boiling-hot water. 

“They’re gonna be alright,” He repeated, this time more deliberately. He glooped some shampoo onto his hand, and began gently massaging it onto Danny’s scalp. “I promise you, Jordon’s gonna be alright.” 

Danny melted under his touch. “Thank you.” 

The house was quiet, even when everyone was awake. George and Danny got breakfast made - pancakes, eggs, and toast, nothing special - and made sure that everyone was all cleaned up from last night. Bandages were changed, wounds were examined, and painkillers were taken. 

Danny and Jordon were inseparable the entire morning; neither was willing to leave each other’s side. Danny was afraid that Jordon might collapse if he ever let the wounded man out of his sight. Jordon was afraid that Danny would realize how fucked up everything was, and leave.

George and Dylan spent the morning tending to Jorel and Vanessa pretty heavily, making sure the both of them ate something, even if it was only a single piece of toast. 

Vanessa wasn’t eating much because of her wound. She even requested a little bit of the drug from last night, just enough to null the pain. Dylan prepped it for her. 

Jorel wasn’t eating much because he couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen next. About the man still tied up in the basement. 

No one dared to talk about that.

Everyone finished eating, and cleared the table. Danny cleaned the dishes, while George dried them and put them away. Jordon provided music, humming whatever song came to his mind. Dylan joined in when he could.

Once they were done cleaning, they all gathered in the living room. 

Jorel remained standing. His face was passive, but Danny was beginning to identify his stoic expressions better. He could tell that the leader was hesitant to continue, and he could guess why. 

Jorel took a deep breath, gaining everyone’s eyes on him. “Let’s,” He croaked, immediately clearing his throat. He held his head high, eyes skimming over the people sitting before him. “Let’s have a family meeting.”

“Should we bother with the masks?” Dylan asked, sounding more than a little cynical. 

“He knows what the fuck we look like,” George snapped. He immediately grimaced. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.” 

“It’s fine, man, let’s just get down there.” 

Jorel nodded, and lead the way. 

 

Danny couldn’t help the uneasiness building in his stomach when they entered the cell that held their victim. The cell that he had helped sloppily soundproof by leaning a couple of old mattresses against the wall. 

They all gathered around their victim in a semi-circle. The horrific similarity of this and his own first night with these men was not lost on Danny.

But Jorel took the lead, instead of Aron. A comforting change if nothing else.

There was a small table in the corner, piled high with enough torture devices that just looking at it sickened Danny, as if a rock were sinking into his stomach. There were some tools that he couldn’t even imagine their uses or the pain they could inflict.

Aron was still unconscious; he was slouched against the wall, with his wrists chained to a pipe running the length of the wall. He was sporting a rather impressive black eye, as well as deep purple bruising all over his nose. As if a boulder had been thrown at his face instead of a man’s fist.

When he didn’t wake at the intrusion of six people, George approached him. 

He crouched down in front of the unconscious weasel, and tilted his hand. In one quick motion, he brought his hand up then back down, slapping him hard enough that the sound reverberated within Danny’s chest; he couldn’t hide his wince.

That woke Aron up. 

“What the fuck-” Aron yanked against the metal cuffs, alert within in instant. He stopped struggling when he noticed who all was in the room, and collected himself with such grace that impressed - maybe even frightened - Danny.

Aron smirked, slowly scanning up and down every person in front of him.

Danny felt as if he were being pierced through and through when Aron’s gaze landed on him. 

They finally paused on Jorel. Aron was still smirking, as if he was still in control even when shackled to the wall. “Hello, Jay-jay,” He greeted as if they were old friends meeting for coffee. 

“Aron,” Jorel greeted him coldly. 

“Long time no see, huh?”   
“Too long. I’d say this is very overdue.” 

Aron didn’t reply; his attention was elsewhere. “Vanessa, you’re looking well. Is that a new tattoo I see?” 

Vanessa had been holding her stomach carefully with her arm that bore the tattoo. Now, she moved that arm behind her back. “Yes.” 

“Did Jay-jay here do it?”

“No.” 

Aron hummed, and moved his gaze on. His eyes landed on Danny again, but this time, they lingered. “You’re still here.” He said, as if it were a remarkable feat. 

Jordon clenched his jaw, barely able to stop himself from moving in front of Danny to block him from the weasel. 

Danny didn’t say anything, he just met Aron’s gaze and hoped his face didn’t show how nervous he was. 

Aron quickly lost interest, and looked back to Jorel. “I know how this is gonna go,” He said, confident in his words. “You’re gonna pass me around like we did Danny, except torture instead of sex. So which lucky duck gets me first?” 

“I do.” George stepped forward, straightening his back to his full height and cracking his knuckles. “And I’ve been itching to say some shit to you for the last ten years.” 

“Can’t wait.” 

Maybe Danny was going crazy, but he swore that Aron looked a little scared in that moment. He would be too. 

“We’ll give you two some time,” Jorel said, patting George’s shoulder. “Everyone clear out.” 

 

Danny immediately went for the roof; the basement was the last place on Earth he wanted to be right now.

He was vaguely aware of Jordon trying his best to follow his hasty pace, but he didn’t slow down.

They both made it to the roof, Danny bursting out of the house with a grateful sigh. 

Jordon all but collapsed onto the ground, his leg pounding in a numbed pain. He’d need to take another painkiller soon. 

Danny sat himself next to his love, breathing a little harder than he needed to. He noticed his love lighting up two cigarettes, and took his without a word. 

He’d definitely developed a nicotine addiction by now. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Are you okay?” Jordon asked after taking a couple heavy drags. 

“I should be asking you that,” Danny replied, jerking his chin to his love’s wounded leg. 

Jordon didn’t reply.

Danny took his time in smoking his cigarette, wanting to pace himself and not chainsmoke again. He smoked it right down to the filter, and harshly ground it into the black asphalt. There was already a small pile of abandoned cigarette ends, smoked by whoever could make to the roof. 

Jordon just watched, his lips pursed in concern. 

Danny swallowed, and looked to his love. “Are you guys really gonna pass Aron like you did me?” 

Jordon grimaced, but couldn't lie, not to his love. “Yes.” 

“Are… are you gonna take your turn?” 

“Yes.” 

Danny looked away, to the poor view they had from the roof. There was no city line to see here, just the depressing small-town view. Small buildings, no neon signs, no crowds of people to judge to make you feel better about yourself. 

Jordon reached his hand out, to touch Danny, but he didn’t make contact; his hand dropped onto the asphalt. “Are you gonna hate me if I do?”

“No,” Danny answered immediately. “I could never hate you.” 

“But you don’t like it.” 

“I can’t say I do. But I know it has to be done.” 

“I’m sorry, baby.” 

“Don’t be sorry.” Danny stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off his pants. “I’m gonna go take a nap or something, okay?”

Jordon stayed on the asphalt, looking like a kicked puppy. “Okay. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Danny tried his best to smile, but he could tell it looked as fake as it felt; he dropped it quick, and rushed back into the house and into the bedroom. 

Jordon sighed, and tried to ignore the sudden tears threatening to spill over. He got up from the roof as well, unwilling to be there alone. 

A few hours passed before George emerged from the basement. His hands were covered in blood, and splatters decorated the rest of his body. When he had entered the basement, the shirt he wore had been white. Crimson splatters decorated the front of it; if it weren’t blood, it could’ve been called art. But since it was blood, it was just evidence.

George didn’t said nothing to anyone; he just took a shower, and then smoked on the roof. He was quiet, if not silent, the rest of the night. A scowl had been permanently affixed to his face, and he’d snap whenever someone tried to talk to him. 

Whenever anyone tried to ask him about it, he’d leave the room. 

Danny knew it had to be because of Aron. It only made him more adamant about Jordon  _ not _ taking his turn.

But he didn’t tell him that.

The next night, it was Dylan’s turn; it was more or less the same story. 

When he emerged from the basement in a foul mood, Danny tried to ask him about it.

“Aron’s just talking shit,” Dylan had spat, pushing past Danny and going up to the roof.

Since everyone had decided to use the roof as a designated smoking area, Danny decided to make it more comfortable; he brought up a blanket and a cup for the discarded cigarette filters. 

The cup had been filled to the brim within a single night. 

Danny knew that this fucked routine involving Aron was doing more harm than good. But there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t want to push anyone’s buttons further they already were.

It was as if a dark cloud had settled over the warehouse, weighing on everyone’s shoulders. Even he was affected by it, despite his efforts to remain even a little positive.

Danny had been dreading tonight; it would be Jordon's turn. He spent most of the day up on the roof, only going inside for the bathroom or a sandwich or something. He didn’t see Jordon the entire day. 

It hurt. 

Danny wanted nothing more than to leap into Jordon’s arms, and put all this mess behind him. But he couldn’t. He had to sit by and stew in his own resentment of the entire situation.

He had to let his lover to torture a man - a man who had done horrible things, as if that justified torture. Then he had to wait for Jorel to murder said man, and then they would all live happily ever after. 

But that was just a silly dream. 

There was no happily ever after in a world like this. 

  
Night had long fallen by the time Danny went back inside. He’d had enough of the moon’s mocking light, shining on him, illuminating the grimy warehouse roof and the cup of cigarette butts and all of his failings as a human. 

Danny didn’t bother to slam the door when he entered the warehouse. He was simply too tired.

He went for the kitchen, deciding between getting something to eat or one of the cheap beers that filled an entire shelf of the fridge. 

He paused in his tracks when he noticed that Jordon was in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and sipping a beer. 

Jordon snapped his head to the entrance, eyes widening when he saw the blonde for the first time in at least twenty-four hours. 

“Hi,” He said, looking all hopeful and doe-eyed. 

Danny managed a small smile, and stepped closer. “Hey,” he breathed, searching Jordon’s eyes, finding comfort in the blue that sparkled more than the night sky. 

“Are you okay?” Jordon murmured, setting his beer on the counter. 

Danny closed the space between them, and gently placed rested his arms on his lover’s shoulders, clasping his hands behind his head. “I’m better.” 

He wasn’t, but a white lie couldn’t make the situation worse.

Jordon snaked his own arms around the blonde’s waist, unable to express how damn much he missed touching his love. “I’m sorry,” He whispered, hanging his head slightly. 

“For what?” Danny leaned his own head so their foreheads touched. 

“I took my turn.” 

Danny took a deep breath, trying his best to blink away the tears building. “It’s okay.” 

“Is it? Is it really okay?” 

“Yes.” Danny brought his hands to Jordon's cheeks, lifting his head so their eyes met. “I still love you.” He tried to poor all the conviction his heart could muster into those four words. 

Jordon smiled, a broken and pained smile, but a smile. “I love you too.” 

Danny leaned forward, capturing his lover’s lips for a light kiss; despite the comfort, the bliss it brought, he couldn’t ignore the little voice in the back of his mind screaming at him that he was kissing a torturer, a  _ murderer _ . 

There was a knock on the wall, gaining both men’s attention. Dylan stood in the door, smirking at the both of them. 

“I hate to interrupt-” 

“Then don’t,” Jordon snapped, but without any heat. 

“But he needs food.” 

Jordon’s playful attitude disappeared in an instant. He gave Danny an apologetic frown.

“I can do that,” Danny said quickly, wanting to be helpful after isolating himself for the last three days. He glanced to his lover, and tilted his head. “You shouldn’t even be walking around right now.” 

Dylan glanced at Jordon, who just shrugged. The curly-haired man relented. 

“Just a couple pieces of bread and some water,” Dylan told him. “Nothing more, okay?” 

Danny nodded without saying anything. He knew they were starving Aron, to keep him weak. He gathered what he was told, and headed for the basement.

Before he could get to the door, he heard an argument breaking out in the kitchen. 

“I don’t want him going down there!” It sounded like Jordon was trying not to shout, and failing. 

“Then why’d you let him?” That was definitely Dylan. 

“I’m not that kinda guy, I’m not gonna force him to stay away!” 

“Then shut the fuck up! He’ll be fine!”

Danny didn’t want to hear anymore, so he slipped into the basement and loudly shut the door behind him.

When he got to the cell, he regretted his decision; he should’ve let anyone else bring the food. 

Aron was still chained to the wall, but he looked like an entirely different person. He was stripped naked, his clothes piled in a heap just out of his reach. 

Bruises covered his body - all deep purple and angry - and cuts - all shallow and bleeding. 

Danny didn’t look at the cart of torture tools; he didn’t think he could bear the sight of it.

With a bit of horrific shock, Danny noticed that Aron was awake. He was watching the blonde with glazed over eyes, eyes red and filled to the brim with unshed tears.

He looked… pathetic. 

Danny approached him, carefully remaining a few paces away. “Hi, Aron.”   
“Hello, Daniel.” His words were slurred, but still coherent. 

“I brought you some food.” 

“My savior.” Even in agony, Aron still kept that biting tone.

“Why are you being such a dick?” Danny plopped the food and water next to Aron, then backed away so he could lean on the opposite wall. 

“Do you know what I am?” Aron asked, straining to sit up. Every movement sent shocks of pain up and down his body, to the point where even barely shifting was almost too much. 

Danny bit his lip to block the wave of profanity threatening to slip from his lips. 

“I’m a man with nothing left to lose,” Aron answered his own question.

“So you’re what? Gonna talk us all to death?” Danny couldn’t tell where this sudden ferocity had come from. He chalked it up to bottled emotions, and then promptly ignored it.

Aron laughed, or tried to; it turned into a burning wheezing, and then a fit of coughing before he settled down. “Are you fucking stupid?” 

“What?” Danny furrowed his brows in confusion, and even a little concern; he feared the man’s mind must’ve snapped. 

“‘Us?’ You really think you’re all an ‘us’?” 

“Yes,” Danny answered, still confused as ever.

It seemed like Aron gained a sudden lucidity out of spite; his eyes were clear of the haze, and he sat up as much as he could bear. “Danny, babe, you could never be a part of them.” 

“What makes you say that?” Danny asked coldly.

“You know our story, at least, enough to know that we all grew up with each other. We’ve known each for our entire fucking lives, since the moment we could think in actual thoughts up ‘til now. You haven’t even been here a goddamn year.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Can you tell when they’re lying?” Aron asked, staring at Danny with the intensity of thousands of people. “Can you tell what Jorel’s different faces mean? Can you tell when George has had too much to drink, and he needs to go to fucking bed? Can you tell when Jordon, the motherfucker you love and who supposedly loves you back, is being moody? Shit, do you even know his last name? His birthday? His favorite color?” 

_ “Shut up!” _ Danny didn’t notice his fists were clenched, not until he felt his nails piercing the skin of his palms.

“So you don’t.” Aron leaned against the wall with a smirk.

“None of that is evidence of true love or not! That’s all trivial bullshit!” 

“It’s all mannerisms of the men you’re backing up. Tell me, Dan-dan, are you willing to die for them?” 

“Yes.” 

Aron shook his head. “Don’t answer with your dick, answer with your brain; are you truly willing to lay down your fucking life for four men you know nothing about?”

“I know enough about them that my answer is yes.”

“Lying doesn’t look good on you, babe.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Oh, my feelings.” 

Danny scoffed. “You’re fucking pathetic.” He pushed himself off the wall, and headed for the door. 

“Walking away from your problems gets you nowhere!” Aron shouted after him, straining against the handcuffs despite the pain it must be causing him. 

Danny slammed the basement door shut behind him, sighing with relief as the shouting was finally cut off. 

Jordon was waiting for him by the door; when he noticed how distressed the blonde seemed, he started forward with his arms outstretched. 

“Don’t touch me,” Danny hissed, backing away from his lover. “Don’t fucking touch me!” 

Eyes wide with both concern and fear, Jordon took a step back, raising his hands with his palms out in surrender. “Are you okay?” 

Danny breathed so deep that his lungs hurt; he could feel more tears pricking his eyes, threatening to spill. “I-I… I’m sorry.” He ducked his head, and shoved past the man he loved. 

He went straight for the roof, unable to bear being inside for another second. The walls were too suffocating; they trapped every scream, every shout, every curse within the cold metal, building it up for some unknown purpose. 

Danny couldn’t stand the sight of them. He couldn’t stand a lot these days. 

 

Jordon trudged back to the living room, limping from the pain growing in his leg. He should take another painkiller soon. 

Maybe it would take care of the feeling of his heart shattering too. 

He shouldn’t have fucking taken his turn down in the basement. He should’ve let George take it, or even Dylan; anyone but himself. 

He couldn’t even enjoy the feeling of bringing pain to the one man who cost all of them so much of their lives. Every hit, every cut, every burn he gave the stupid weasel was just another reminder that he was nothing more than a monster. 

Something Danny could never love. 

Just the thought hurt more than anything else Jordon had ever experienced. 

He threw himself onto the empty couch, paying no attention to any of the others in the room. He wasn’t even sure who was with him. 

He felt the other side of the couch dipping down with added weight. He felt an arm on his shoulder. He heard someone calling his name. 

Jordon looked to who was sitting by him; it was just Jorel, eyes wide with worry. Only now could Jordon truly see the extent of his leader’s exhaustion. 

Every muscle in Jorel’s body seemed strained to the point of snapping, The bags under his eyes were almost as dark as his hair, and his facial hair was closer to a beard than a subtle five o’clock shadow. 

Jordon knew he couldn’t look any better; he knew it would only get worse the longer they stayed here. He could sense it in the other’s, too. 

George was moodier, more irritated all the damn time, too close to being unpredictable. 

Dylan was smoking and drinking more; Jordon was worried he was going to slip up and start using their own drug again. The last thing they needed was for him to become a druggie for the third time. 

Even Vanessa was affected; she had grown quiet, cracking less jokes and providing less comfort. 

Jordon couldn’t even bring himself to think about Danny and how he was affected. He just knew that this house, and the man in the basement, had brought a shadow into their world. 

A shadow that dropped the weight of the universe onto all their shoulders; a shadow that needed to be eradicated by the light of a second chance, of a freedom that could be brought about by one single thing. 

“We need to finish this now,” Jordon told Jorel, firm in his words. 

Jorel merely nodded. As if he knew exactly why, and was prepared for it. Prepared to do what had to be done, to give them all a second chance at life. 


	23. Renaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all coming to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooo boy, sorry it's been almost a month since I updated, life got in the way of everything. But, I've had to time to write this and start the next (and final) chapter, so hopefully that can be out on schedule.  
> And yes, there's only one more chapter left. I'm sad, but I'm also proud that i'll actually have finished a long project, for the first time.  
> I'll say more about when I actually publish the last chapter, but for now, please enjoy this one! 
> 
> *warning* there's some heavy language, and a mention of a suicide attempt. I just thought I'd mention it here since it's kinda harsh.

Someone shouted his name. 

Danny angrily stubbed his cigarette out onto the roof, barely noticing when he ground it so much that he scraped his knuckle against the harsh asphalt. He just dropped the remains of the filter into the already filled cup, and went back inside. 

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was met with everyone standing near the basement door, watching him expectantly.

“What’s happening?” Danny asked, seeing a glint of dark metal poking out from Jorel’s waistband. 

“We’re ending this,” Jordon answered, not making eye contact. 

George managed a tiny smile. “By the morning, we’ll be home.” 

Danny swallowed; he didn’t know if he wanted to go back to that place, and all the memories tied up in it. He couldn’t even begin to tell where he and Jordon stood; he wasn’t sure he truly wanted to know. 

But then he saw the determination on Jorel’s face, the pure desire to just be done and over with this entire fucking mess; it was infectious. 

So he nodded, and stood by Jordon’s side, just on the outside of the group. 

Jorel led the way into the basement, for the last time.

 

Aron stirred when he noticed he wasn’t alone. He had either been sleeping or unconscious; even he couldn’t tell the difference anymore. 

He quickly pushed himself up off the ground, grinning sadistically as everyone gathered around him. 

Vanessa and Danny hung back this time; it wasn’t their place to be up at the front of this. 

“We gonna go Old Yeller now?” Aron asked with a psychotically gleeful tone. 

Danny figured his mind must’ve completely snapped. It was horrifying to watch. 

“Are you gonna take me out back and clip me with a shotgun?” Aron continued, staring intently at Jorel. 

The leader shook his head. “We’re doing this here and now, Aron.” 

“Have you no showmanship?” 

“Not now.” 

“You don’t deserve it,” George added with a sneer. 

Jorel took out the pistol that he had stashed in his waistband, clicking off the safety and chambering a bullet in one quick motion. 

“You actually gonna do it, Jay-jay?” Aron sounded a bit surprised. “You’re gonna pop  _ me _ , you’re best goddamn friend, in the forehead right here?” 

“You threw your life away the second you betrayed all of us,” Jorel snapped, his voice cold and certain. “This is it, Aron Erlichman. The end of the line for you.” 

“Well, shit.” Aron pretended to pout. “I never got to go to Europe. Or go skiing. Or learn to knit. I was gonna make you a scarf, Jayjay. Long enough for you to hang yourself next time you decided you couldn’t deal with life anymore.” 

Danny shifted on his feet. Vanessa wrapped her arms around his own, pulling herself close. Her hands were clenched around his arms so tightly he could feel every nail digging into his skin, and she wasn’t even wearing her fake nails anymore.

“You got anything left to say?” Jorel asked. He didn’t even sound shocked at what had been said to him; he just sounded burned out.

“Can I talk to Daniel?” Aron’s piercing gaze landed on Danny. “In private, that is. I don’t want any of you fuckers listening in.” 

Everyone’s eyes turned to Danny. He froze, unsure of what to do. 

“You don’t have too,” George told him. “He’s fucking insane anyways.”

“Hurtful,” Aron commented.

Danny nodded. “I’ll do it.” 

Vanessa let go of his arm so he could step forward, approaching the shackled man with caution. 

Danny crouched down, almost too close to Aron for his comfort. 

Aron narrowed his eyes at everyone else.”Can you idiots leave?” 

“No,” Jordon answered immediately.

“Fine. Danny, come closer.” 

Danny shook his head. “I’m good.”

Aron glared at him. “Closer, dammit!”

“Alright, fine.” The blonde inched forward, until Aron was apparently satisfied. 

“Leave,” He whispered into Danny’s ear. “These assholes are gonna kill you, so take money and get the fuck out. Save your own life, and start a new one without them.” 

“That’s enough,” Danny stated loudly, backing away from the crazed man more than a little hastily. “I’m not- no.” 

Aron rolled his eyes. “Fine. You sealed your fate, motherfucker, I hope you’re happy.” 

Jorel stepped between the two men, pistol firm in hand. “You’re done, Aron. This is the end.” He stood square in front of Aron, feet spread. 

He raised the pistol. His hands were barely shaking. 

“Any last words?” 

Aron grinned; he looked feral. “Go to hell.” 

Jorel scoffed; for a moment, he was transported back to a time when they were younger. When they were two friends just joking around, acting as if they hated each other when that was farthest from the truth. “Tell them who sent you.” 

But that was the past. This was the cold reality. Where they weren’t friends anymore.

Jorel pulled the trigger.

Vanessa jumped. George flinched.

Jorel dropped the pistol. It was still smoking. 

The body slumped over. Blood was everywhere. It glistened in the weak light.

Danny almost threw up. 

Jorel winced as he shed a tear. 

Danny was a little nervous about the next activity. 

He and Vanessa were told to stand in the street in front of the house, and wait. 

“Do you know what they’re doing?” Danny asked, watching as various lights went on and off within the warehouse. 

“They’re gonna burn it down,” Vanessa told him. “They bought a ton of gas.” 

“I never would’ve guessed.” Danny didn’t realize just how much time he’d spent on the roof if he didn’t notice the guys buying and storing what was presumably tens of gallons of gasoline. 

“Fire’s a good way to start again. The phoenix rising from the ashes and all that.” 

“Are you ready to start again?” Danny draped his arm around Vanessa’s shoulders, bringing her in for a loose hug. 

Vanessa rested her head on his shoulder. “I think we all are, more than we really know.” 

Danny couldn’t even begin to disagree. 

It took ten minutes for the gas to be poured, and for everyone to get to the street. 

Dylan got to light it by throwing a match onto the gas trail and then bolting into the street. 

The entire place was ablaze in seconds. 

Even from the street, the heat was harsh. 

Danny wove his hand with Jordon’s, standing close to him, taking comfort in his solid presence. 

Jordon held his hand tightly. 

George and Dylan watched the flames conquer the warehouse with blank expressions. They might as well have been statues instead of people.

Jorel couldn’t hide his feelings this time; grief was clear in the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Even Vanessa being so close to him didn’t seem to bring him any solace. 

Danny saw this, and gently tugged on Jordon’s hand. Silently, the two of them stepped closer to their leader, and placed their free hands on Jorel’s shoulders. 

Jorel sniffed once, but wouldn’t let himself cry. 

George and Dylan noticed, and were quick to join in providing as much support as they could for their brother. 

Danny wondered, not for the first nor the last time, just how he had gotten to this point in his life. 

How he had joined this weird family, who were all just as willing to support one another as they were to breathe. How even through betrayal, they were strong. 

How standing in front of a warehouse up in flames, with smoke pouring from the windows, wouldn’t stop them from caring for their leader. 

His own leader now as well, Danny supposed. There was definitely no going back at this point.

Jorel sniffed once more, and stood a little straighter. “Thanks, guys.” He made sure to look at each person around him, conveying his gratitude through his tear-filled eyes and a small smile. “I love you all.” 

A chorus of “We love you too” were his response. 

As if each person had the exact same thought at the exact same time, they all began walking to the van. 

A warehouse on fire would definitely draw attention 

It was time to go. 

Time to leave all this behind. 

Time to start again. A renaissance of sorts.

 

Danny made the drive back home in record time. 

Jorel had told him to park the van about a mile away from the house; they walked the rest of the way. 

By the time they were at the house, the sun was beginning to rise; the sky was getting lighter, hints of pinks and oranges highlighting the few clouds still hanging around. 

“Maybe we should actually try sleeping,” Jorel suggested. His eyes were red from silently crying in the car. 

“Sleeping’s for pussies,” George countered, but there was no emotion behind his voice. It was if he’d been emptied of everything that made him human.

“Says the bags under your eyes,” Dylan replied, again with no heat.

“I still have my meds,” Jorel said loudly. “We need sleep.” 

No one disagreed. 

Twenty minutes later, Jordon and Danny were getting ready for bed. They had each taken a sleeping pill, and chased it with a beer and a cigarette. 

“I’ve missed this,” Jordon murmured, watching as Danny exchanged his jeans for some sweatpants. 

Danny gave a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have, too.” 

Jordon furrowed his brows, and sat on his side of the bed. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Baby.” 

Danny looked up at that, staring right into Jordon’s eyes. After a moment, he looked away, shaking his head and finishing putting his dirty clothes in the hamper. “I’ve just really missed this too.” And he had.

“There’s something wrong.” 

“It’s nothing.” Something in Danny’s tone warned Jordon to let it be, at least for now. 

So they climbed into bed together, just like before. Danny laid his head on Jordon’s chest, their arms wrapping around each other, just like before. 

Jordon let out a deep sigh, one of pure relief. “God, I’ve missed this.” He pressed a light kiss to the blonde’s hair.

Danny smiled, but it soon fell. “I was afraid I’d ruined this,” He admitted, running his hand along the fabric of Jordon’s t-shirt. “Ruined us.” 

“But you didn’t, so don’t worry about it, baby. We’re here, stronger than ever.” Jordon hoped he didn’t sound as unsure as he felt he did.

“I wanna believe that, but… is it really over? Is all the bullshit over?” 

“Yes.” Jordon was firm in his answer. “It’s just smooth sailing from here on out, both with the business, and with us, baby. There’s nothing to stop us, okay?” Except for the skeletons in all their closets, but that’s a different conversation for a different day.

Danny shifted so he could face his lover. He still wasn’t convinced, not entirely; it would take more than a promise to truly convince him that all their hardships were over with. But he appreciated Jordon for trying. “I love you, you know that?”

“And I love you, more than anything.”

 

In the next room over, George and Dylan were getting ready for bed as well. They had taken to sharing a bed so much that they should probably just move into the same room at this point. 

“He’s finally dead, huh, Georgie?” Dylan sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard, debating between rolling a blunt before bed or just taking some shots of vodka or something. 

George nodded, checking his pistol one more time before putting it in the nightstand drawer. “Dead as shit, Dilly. Up in smoke and out of our lives.” 

“Does it feel weird for you too? I feel like we’re gonna wake up and his stupid face is gonna shout at us for losing money or some shit.” 

“It does feel like that,” George admitted. “It’s been months, and it  _ still _ feels like he’s our boss.” 

“But Jay’s our boss now.” 

“And he’s gonna be better than Aron could ever be.” 

“Ain’t no doubt about that.” 

 

Jorel wasn’t feeling the same confidence. He sat on his bed, legs pulled up to his chest, head on his knees. 

Vanessa sat beside him, rubbing his back, trying to bring him any ounce of comfort she could. 

“He’s fucking dead,” Jorel lamented, shrinking into himself even more. “I killed him, he’s dead.” 

“He was a bad man,” Vanessa said, holding back her own tears. She couldn’t stand to see Jorel, proud and confident Jorel, like this. Like he was broken. 

“I loved him.” 

“He hurt you.” Vanessa didn’t want to bring this up, but she had too. “He lied to you, for his own selfish reasons.” 

Jorel collapsed onto her lap, unable to hold himself up. It took every little piece of self control to not burst into ugly tears. 

“He didn’t love you, Jay. But the others, they do.” Vanessa almost added herself, but now was not the right time. She wondered if there ever would be. “George, Dylan, Jordon, even Danny, they all love you more than anything.”

“They expect me to be their boss now,” Jorel croaked. “I can’t do that.”

Vanessa huffed. “You’ve already been doing that, Jay.” 

“I’m worried. What if I’m no better?” 

“That’s like asking what if the sun exploded tomorrow. It won’t happen, no if’s, and’s, or but’s.” 

“How do you know?” Jorel looked up, unshed tears shining. 

Vanessa placed the hand that wasn’t rubbing his back on his cheek. “You’re a better person than he is. You won’t betray the people you love, or the people who love you.” 

“I guess.” 

“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” Vanessa said. “You should get some sleep.” 

Jorel shook his head. “Nightmares.” 

“I’ll be right here, to keep them away. I promise.” 

“You’re an angel, V.” Jorel shifted so he was lying down, curled up on his side facing Vanessa. 

“I’m no angel, I’m just trying my best.” Vanessa settled against the headboard, making sure Jorel had enough of the blanket and then draping the rest over her legs. She didn’t really need the blanket; he was more than enough to keep her warm.

“Aren’t you gonna sleep?” 

“I will, I’m just not tired yet.” Vanessa hoped the lie wasn’t obvious; she was exhausted, down to her bones, but she wouldn’t sleep yet. She wanted to make sure Jorel got fell asleep first so she could be sure that he actually got rest. 

Jorel settled down, knowing that you can’t argue with Vanessa about her sleeping habits. “Thank you, V. For everything.” 

“You’re welcome, Jay. Now get some sleep.” 

 

The next morning was quiet.

Everyone woke up and met in the kitchen for coffee, like usual. 

There was hardly any talking. 

Vanessa went back to her own home, to recover and to check up on her store. 

As the sun was setting, Danny was made an official member of the Undead. The

ceremony, if it could be called that, was simple. 

Everyone was sat around the dinner table. George poured out shots of tequila for everyone. 

“Is there a rusty dagger I have to cut my hand with?” Danny joked, mostly out of nervousness. He couldn’t stop bouncing his leg under the table. 

“We got rid of it after it gave the last guy tetanus,” George replied with a smirk. He slid the shots across the table with the efficiency of a professional bartender. 

“So, Daniel,” Jorel cleared his throat, and looked the blonde right in the eyes. “Do you want to join us?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you willing to do whatever it takes for us?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then congratulations, you’re now officially part of the Undead.” Jorel picked up his shot, and raised it in the air. “To Danny.” 

A chorus of “To Danny’s” filled the air. The shots were taken, the little glasses were slammed on the table, and cheers erupted. 

Danny was slapped on the back, and almost hoisted up on Dylan’s shoulders. He couldn’t stop smiling the whole night. George and Jordon passed around more shots, and even Jorel took part in the celebration. 

But once the lights were off, and the house was silent, that was when their joy retreated. 

The skeletons in the closet, the demons, the monsters under the beds, whatever you want to call them, they came out in the night.

It seemed like they would never leave. 

But no matter how unrelenting their demons were, the Undead tried to remain optimistic about the future.

For they had each other. A support system like no other. A loving family like no other. And each one of them were willing to die for their family.

Danny saw it this way: if you died for your family, you died in the most glorious way possible. 

And he wanted nothing more from life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter... damn.


	24. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hap·py  
> /ˈhapē/  
> adjective  
> 1\. feeling or showing pleasure or contentment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I had to entirely rewrite the final chapter because I had a much better idea and wanted it to be as well-polished as I could manage.  
> I hope y'all enjoy the final chapter of this mess!

~Around half a year later~

 

“Don’t open your eyes!” 

Danny scowled, letting his hands drop from the blindfold currently tied around his eyes. “How much further?” 

“Not much, now shut the fuck up.” George held the blonde’s arm, guiding him up what seemed to be a lot of stairs. 

“You could ask nicely.” 

“You could walk faster.” 

“I’m not going to fucking sprint up some stairs blindfolded. I like living, thank you very much.” 

“I wouldn’t let you fall.” 

“Sure. Where even are we?” 

“Somewhere you’ve been before.” 

“That’s real helpful. Where’s everyone else?” It just been him and George on the drive all the way here - Danny had been blindfolded the entire time.

“They’re already there. Just a few more stairs, lion, come on.” 

“So many stairs.” 

When they apparently reached the top of the flight, George pushed open a door. He placed his hands on Danny’s shoulders, effectively stopping him. 

“Wait a second, I wanna talk to you.” 

“Okay, what about?” 

Danny froze when he felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around him, almost enough to push his breath out his lungs. 

The extremely warm hug disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving Danny cold and slightly confused. 

“I’m not good with words,” George said, sounding closer than he was pre-hug “Bu-” 

“Bullshit,” Danny interrupted. “I’ve seen what you write in your journal, you’re a damn poet.” 

“Alright, fine, I’m not good with speaking my thoughts without writing them down, is that better?” 

“Yes.” 

“Anyways,” George huffed. “I just wanted to say thank you, for everything, and I love you.” 

Danny smiled, and blindly reached his hand out until he found a shoulder and grasped it. “You’re welcome, and I love you too.” 

“Now let’s do this.” George took Danny’s arm, and began leading him through what seemed like a very long hallway.

Another door was opened, and after a few more steps, they stopped.

“You ready?” George asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

George carefully untied the blindfold, and let it fall to the ground. 

Danny inhaled sharply; he was in a room he didn’t recognize, surrounded by everyone he knew. The Undead, and even more. Vanessa, Asia, even Anna were all there.

Golden glittery streamers were everywhere, along with a large banner on the far wall that read “Happy Anniversary!!” 

Jordon was standing in front of everyone, holding an unopened bottle of champagne and two glasses. 

Danny furrowed his brows and grinned, happy yet confused. He glanced to George, who was wearing a coy smirk. “What?” 

“It’s your one-year anniversary of being with us,” Jordon told him. “We wanted to celebrate. Is that okay?” 

Danny didn’t say anything - he didn’t trust his voice enough. Tears were building in his eyes, his heart threatening to burst from joy. These people all cared about him to do this, to come together and celebrate him. 

“I-it’s perfect,” He said, all but throwing himself onto his lover. “Thank you so much.” 

“Danny!” 

The blonde turned, seeing Vanessa and Jorel on either side of a set of large, navy curtains. The two looked at each other, then pulled a golden rope. 

The curtains split, revealing a view that Danny could never forget: the entire city of Los Angeles, sparkling in the night. 

“Are we seriously in the Thieves’ mansion?” Danny asked, not taking his eyes off the incredible view. 

“Only the best for my love,” Jordon wrapped his arm around the blonde’s waist, pulling him close. “I remember how much you loved it, that night we were here. That was the night I truly began to fall in love with you.” 

“You’re gonna make me cry,” Danny murmured, fighting the tears back, albeit unsuccessfully. 

“Let’s save the tears for later, and get this party started, yeah?” 

Danny nodded, tearing his eyes away from the window to look at his love. Despite how pretty the city was, Jordon would always be prettier. 

“Dylan, hit the music!” Jordon called out, releasing Danny’s waist so he could open the champagne. 

Danny stood back, as did George.

Jordon popped the cork, and it went flying. A stream of champagne flew, and Jordon brought the bottle closer to his mouth so he could drink some. 

Danny shoved him lightly, a dorky grin on his face. Jordon bit his tongue in a playful smile, champagne dripping from his chin, and poured the drink into the glasses. He handed one to his love, and the other to George, keeping the bottle for himself. 

Jorel came over, Vanessa right behind him. He drew Danny in for a tight hug, patting his shoulder a couple times just to be sure. When Jorel pulled back, he was smiling, a truly genuine smile. It was nice to see. 

“Thank you, Jay.” Danny rested his hands on his leader’s shoulders. 

“It’s Jordy you should be thanking.” 

“Oh, I will,” Danny promised, thinking of all the ways to thank him later, back in their bedroom. “But right now, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done. You’re a hell of a boss, and an even better friend.” 

“Sappy bitch,” Jorel pressed his lips together, trying and failing to hide how much he appreciated those words. 

Danny rolled his eyes, clapping his leader on the shoulder. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.”

The rest of the evening was filled with booze, laughter, dancing, and pure happiness. Danny made sure to dance with everyone at least once - even Anna, despite not knowing her too well. 

They were served food in a separate room - very good food, too - sometime through the night, but Danny couldn't keep track of time. He was simply having too much fun, being surrounded by the people he loved. 

At some point, quite late if he had to guess, Danny needed a smoke break. He could confirm that he had a smoking addiction, but he managed to keep it to a single pack a week. Besides, with the stresses of his new job - having been promoted to a full member of the Undead came with responsibilities - he didn’t feel a need to quit just yet. 

Jordon asked if he could join Danny, and he would never refuse in a million years. So, together, they left the party room.

Jordon led Danny in an unfamiliar direction, but promised he knew where he was going. There was another flight of stairs, and then they were on the roof of the mansion. The wind whipped at their clothes lightly, and the view of the city was more glorious than ever. 

Danny lit a cigarette, and took a drag before passing it to his lover. 

They stayed like that for a few moments, silently passing a cigarette and enjoying the scenery. 

Once they smoked it down to the filter, Danny put it out onto the asphalt. He looked to Jordon, whose blue eyes were shimmering with adoration. 

“Thank you for this,” Danny said, stepping closer, resting his arms on his lover’s shoulders and linking his hands behind his neck. “You’re amazing, you know that?” 

Jordon wrapped his arms around the blonde’s waist, bringing him closer. “I’m pretty great, but you’re even better.” 

Danny shook his head, huffing at how dorky the man he loved was. He leaned forward, pressing their lips together for a light kiss. 

Jordon tilted his head to deepen it, tightening his hold on the blonde. 

When they had to pull away to breathe, Jordon let go of Danny, and stepped back, digging something out of his pants’ pocket. 

Danny observed, furrowing his brows. “Wha-” 

Jordon got down on one knee, holding up a little black velvet box. “Daniel Murillo, I love you so fucking much, you know?” 

Danny brought his hands to his mouth, breathing erratically with wide eyes. 

“I want to spend the rest of my life, and then the life after that, and the life after that, and forever and an eternity with you.” 

More tears began pricking the edges of Danny’s vision. 

Jordon opened the little box, revealing a simple band of pure rose gold. “Will you marry me?” 

Danny let out a choked sob, nodding furiously. He dropped to his knees, throwing his arms around Jordon with enough strength to almost knock them both over. 

“Is that a yes?” Jordon asked through poorly hidden laughter and possibly tears as well.

Danny pulled back, placing his hands on his lover’s cheeks, still nodding as if he were a bobblehead. “Yes, Jordon Terrell, yes, yes, so fucking much,  _ yes! _ ” 

Jordon gently took Danny’s left hand, and slipped the ring onto his finger; it fit perfectly, like he was meant to wear it. Which he was. 

“I love you,” Danny murmured, in between peppering Jordon’s lips with kisses. “I love you so much, holy shit, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you!” 

Jordon couldn’t bring himself to speak; he couldn’t remember a time where he felt happier than right now. He hugged Danny tight, promising to himself that he would never let this man, this  _ angel, go.  _

__

 

__

When they went back inside, their family were elated to see the ring, but no one was surprised by it. They knew it would happen at some point; it was clear to anyone who saw them, that Danny and Jordon were simply meant to be.

__

During one late night maybe a week after, Dylan asked if he could talk to Danny, since they were the only ones still awake. 

__

“I hope you know that I appreciate the fuck out of you and Jordy,” Dylan began, looking at Danny with almost glassy eyes. He was well on his way to getting higher than a 20-foot ceiling, his current method of coping with stress. 

__

“I know, Dylan. I appreciate you too.” 

__

“You make Jordy happy, and he makes you happy. It’s magic, how damn well you two are. It’s some fairytale shit, you know?” 

__

Danny never really thought he had a fairytale relationship with Jordon; he just knew he was truly happy when he was with him. 

__

“When you told us you guys were getting married, my first thought was like ‘Dan, don’t you dare hurt him’ but then I was like, ‘Jordon, don’t you hurt  _ Danny _ ’ and then I realized that you’re important to me, Danny. You’re really fucking important to me.” 

__

Danny didn’t say anything; he didn’t know what to say, but he was pretty sure his goofy smile and heated cheeks said plenty. 

__

Dylan gave him a cheeky grin. “Thanks for listening to my rant, you can go to bed now if you want.” 

__

“I probably should,” Danny admitted, glancing at the watch that had been given to him for his birthday. “You should too, you know.” 

__

“Why sleep, I have so much to smoke here.” Dylan gestured to his half-smoked joint in emphasis. 

__

“Rest is more important than pot,” Danny told him. He stood from the couch with a groan, stretching his back lightly and grimacing when his bones popped. “Goodnight, Dilly.” 

__

“Goodnight, angel. Sleep tight, don’t let the dead bite, all that good shit.” 

__

Danny snorted. “You’re fucking weird.” 

__

“You know it, and you love it.” 

__

“Somehow, I do.” 

__

 

__

A month later, and the wedding was held. It was a grand ceremony, again at the Thieves mansion. 

__

The icy relationship between the Thieves and the Undead had warmed up considerably since the death of Deuce, enough that Jordon and Danny felt comfortable getting married at the mansion. 

__

It was an official ceremony, so everyone put on their best “I’m not a criminal” face, and attended. 

__

Danny wanted to invite every single person that they knew, from good friends like Asia and Anna to even business associates, like Theodore. 

__

They even met this one guy, named Brian Cox, who was into photography as well as money laundering. He filmed a lot of the ceremony, promising a fully edited short video as his gift to the newlyweds. 

__

Neither Danny nor Jordon could ask for a more perfect wedding. 

__

It reached a climax when they exchanged their vows. 

__

Danny went first, holding Jordon’s hands tightly. “I struggled a bit with writing this out, because I feel like our love just can’t be described by words. Everytime I look at you… I’m just blown away by how pretty you are. Everytime I think about you, I’m amazed that I get to call you mine. Everytime you hug me or hold me, I feel like I’m home. You’re my home, is what I’m trying to say. I know that no matter where we go in life, if you’re by my side, I’ll always be okay.” 

__

Jordon couldn’t stop smiling; he told himself he wouldn’t cry, but that was just wishful thinking. “I remember the first day I saw you, so vividly that it’s weird because my memory is stupidly awful. I realize it was the probably the worst way we could’ve met for the first, but I remember how strong you were. I remember looking at you, and thinking ‘this guy will never give up,’ and I knew you were special, in that moment. I knew I would want to be close to you, and I knew I would never want to let you go. I love you, baby. I love you to the stars and back, and then back again.” 

__

They exchanged rings, and then they kissed. 

__

Cheers erupted, and rose petals were thrown. 

__

It was the best kiss of their lives. 

__

 

__

Jorel had to take a break. He didn’t usually dance, but this was a special occasion, so he did, and now he was regretting it. 

__

Vanessa was quick to sit beside him, at one of the tables near the dance floor. “You alright?” 

__

“Better than ever.” Jorel took a sip of his beer, watching the newlyweds share yet another dance in the center of everyone. “They’re really happy.” 

__

“Happiest I’ve ever seen anyone,” Vanessa agreed. She looked to Jorel, her lips pursed together in thought. 

__

Jorel could almost see the gears in her head spinning on overdrive; he rested his free hand over hers, holding it lightly. He offered her a light smile, full of promises. 

__

Vanessa smiled back, placing her other hand on top of his. She had gotten special nails done for the wedding; black with tiny rose gold chains going down the middle. Along with her elegant black dress, Jorel thought she looked gorgeous. 

__

Of course, to him she always did, but especially tonight. 

__

Jorel could honestly say he didn’t know where he’d be without Vanessa there to help him. She was a comfort like no one else. His own savior. 

__

He thought about spending the rest of his life with her. Waking up every morning to her and Tiger. It sounded like one of the best ideas he’d ever had. Shit, it sounded like a daydream in a perfect world. 

__

But that was for a much later date, very far in the future. Maybe when he has his shit together, he might pursue her further. 

__

For now, he was content to hold her hand, and be there for her in all the ways she had been there for him. 

__

“Look,” Vanessa drew his attention back to the present by pointing over to the edge of the dance floor. “I think a few people have been hiding some things.” 

__

Jorel followed her gaze, where it landed on George and Asia, sharing a slow dance together. 

__

They seem peaceful, he thought. Happy. 

__

He looked over, past Jordon and Danny, and saw Dylan and Anna, also dancing together. 

__

So they were finally getting together, too. Good. Dylan’s been pining after her for long enough. 

__

Jorel looked back to Vanessa, who was looking at all the couples with a small grin. As if she wanted to be truly happy for them, but almost couldn’t. 

__

He stood up, placing his drink on the table. He offered a hand out, smiling his most genuine smile. “Would you like to dance, V?” 

__

Vanessa stared at his hand, then flicked her eyes up to meet his. Her smile grew, until it almost blinded Jorel with how radiant it was. 

__

For a brief moment, he was floored by how much his life had changed within a year. He has suffered a great deal, probably more than he really needed too. Yet, despite his suffering, he’s thousands upon thousands of times happier. 

__

When Vanessa took his hand, and said “I’d love to,” Jorel finally realized that he was so damn close to his own happily ever after. He finally knew just with whom he was going to get it with.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. That's the end of I'm breaking, I feel it.  
> It's been a hell of a ride, honestly. The first longer story I've ever finished, and I'm proud of it. It isn't perfect, not by any means, but it's mine, and I like it.  
> Thank you to everyone who's commented on it, or left a kudos, or just glanced at it for like two seconds. It means a lot to me that so many people would bother to read my story.  
> I'll see y'all in the next one, I hope.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave a comment or a kudos!


End file.
